#but it was too funny of a thought to delete while cleaning out my drafts

[lovefaberry]

Glee was a cultural phenomenon greater than Shakespeare

#i drafted this at like 2 am months ago #but it was too funny of a thought to delete while cleaning out my drafts #so here it is- this post now exists #just a glee fan being unhinged i guess #glee #shakespeare #quinn fabray #Rachel berry #mercedes jones #finn hudson #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #brittany pierce #santana lopez #tina cohen chang #mike chang #artie abrams #sam evans #.txt #<3

[lucky-katebishop]

What I Read in August 2021

I... my first draft got deleted and that took forever to make so please like this for my sanity. I bookmarked 26 fics and read 1 book this month, so not as much as my previous two months but still! The majority is Harry Potter, but there's a spare Sherlock one and Friends one in there. A lot of these fics have other people raising Harry because that's just what I've been in the mood for lately.

Friends

For someone to ripple the waters by teatrolley

Plot: He’s fine, though, he tells himself. He’s dealing with it. He’s dating girls, and using the excuse that he’s bad at it when Joey asks him why he never brings anyone home anymore. He’s fine. That is, until Joey kisses him at New Year’s, and everything changes. Or: Chandler is in love with Joey and it's not the sort of thing you say out loud. Until, one day, it is

Characters: Chandler, Joey, Monica

Relationships: Chandler/Joey

Warnings: none

Tags: canon compliant, friends to lovers, POV Chandler, Chandler is gay, coming out

My Notes: I watched a lot of Friends over August and just!!! Chandler and Joey were the Troy and Abed of the 90s, I said what I said. This fic is so beautiful, the prose is amazing and it’s so heartfelt and it did make me tear up a little bit. I don’t typically read fics for sitcoms but I highly 100% recommend this one!

*complete*

Sherlock (stand-alone)

Feel the Tide by positivelymeteoric

Plot: Things John Watson doesn't expect to do when he transfers to a new school: A) Befriend his (possibly) mad roommate. B) Investigate a particularly nasty streak of murders with his (most likely) mad roommate. C) Fall slightly (or not so slightly) in love with his (definitely) mad roommate. D) All of the above.

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry Watson, Mycroft, Lestrade, Moriarty

Relationships: Sherlock/John

Warnings: none

Tags: teen!lock, high school

*complete*

Harry Potter & Sherlock

My Experiment by lemoncurry

Plot: Sherlock steals a boy. Sorry- rescues. John helps, because what choice does he have? But not even Sherlock knows just how not-boring things will be...

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry Potter, Mycroft

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: pre-Hogwarts

*incomplete* [last updated 2013]

Logic, Meet Luna by Applepie

Plot: Luna Lovegood has moved into 221c Baker Street! So what happens when you mix a 'loony' pureblood witch in a muggle area with logic driven residents? Err... not much, really. Just a whole lot of confusion.

Characters: Luna, Sherlock, Mycroft, John, Lestrade, Sally Donovan

Relationships: none

Warnings: none

Tags: humor

*complete*

Recalibration by Noxilicious

Plot: Mycroft more or less finds himself constantly cleaning up his dear brother’s messes, but in the case of one Harold William Holmes-Evans, he might just prove to be the one ‘mistake’ he won’t be able to rectify.

Characters:

Relationships: Sherlock/Lily Potter; Mary/John; Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: none

Tags: parentlock, canon compliant, pre-prisoner of Azkaban, post series 3, family drama, angst, hurt/comfort, muggle Sherlock, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Sherlock has a Heart, protective Sherlock, genius Harry, bogus deductions, fluff

*incomplete* [last updated 2017]

In Search of Companionship by kris799

Plot: After the events of the Sign of Three, Sherlock falls into a bout of melancholy; Mycroft, the consummate manipulator, suggests "filling the gap" and events largely get out of hand from there. A Sherlock adopts Harry!fic, set between Episodes Two and Three of Season Three.

Characters: Sherlock, Harry, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, John, Mary

Relationships: Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: none

Tags: Parent!Sherlock, Child!Harry, adoption, John is out of the picture but not really, manipulative!Mycroft, magic, slow paced, perhaps glacial, Sherlock has many thoughts, and a mental!John to call him out on his crap, he’s not crazy, Harry cooks, and tries to take care of everyone, bored!Sherlock leads to bad [great] ideas, set in season 3

My Notes: don’t get your hopes up for Sherlock to find out about magic, it doesn’t happen and since the last time this was updated was almost seven years ago, I don’t think we’ll get to read it. However, it’s still very good and while it does give off some weird Sherlock stalkery vibes, this fic still kept me engaged and Sherlock and Harry’s relationship is great.

*incomplete* [last updated 2015]

Harry Potter of Baker Street by Dayja

Plot: Sherlock Holmes discovers family he never knew he had, and John Watson finds a child living in the cupboard.

Characters: Harry, Sherlock, John

Relationships: none

Warnings: none

Tags: family, friendship

My Notes: this one!!! Is so amazing!!! It’s so cute! I don’t really like to read kid fics all that much, but this one is worth the read!

*complete*

No Thank You by IHScribe

Plot: Harry Potter declines to attend Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore is forced to go and convince him otherwise. Too bad he didn’t expect the boy’s father(s).

Characters: Sherlock, John, Harry, Dumbledore, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, Moriarty, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Hagrid, Snape

Relationships: Sherlock/John

Warnings: none

Tags: none

My Notes: this one is very funny and very sweet. Honestly fuck Hogwarts.

*complete*

Friend by esama

Plot: Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Characters: Sherlock, Harry, Mycroft, Mrs Holmes

Relationships: Sherlock & Harry

Warnings: character death

Tags: kid fic, alternate universe

My Notes: This one is so cool and original! I never thought about where Sherlock’s skull came from!

*complete*

Harry Potter & Supernatural

The Youngest Winchester by TheLastWincehsterStanding

Plot: Harry James Potter had thought, given the current circumstances, that going to America to track down his biological father was a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, like most of Harry's plans, there had been very little planning and far too much impulsiveness. Had he known what sort of monsters lurked in America, he would've stayed in England.

Characters: Harry, Bobby Singer, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Sam Winchester

Relationships: Harry & Dean & Sam Winchester; Harry & John Winchester; Harry & Bobby Singer

Warnings: none

Tags: non-Potter Harry, the hunt for Yellow Eyes, season 1 of Supernatural, book 5, surprise! It’s a sixteen year old boy!

My Notes: I don’t really remember this one, I’ve read like four of these types of Harry being a Winchester story and I generally forget what happens in this one

*incomplete* [last updated 2018]

Harry Potter (stand-alone, specifically Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood)

That escalated quickly by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Percy and Oliver get stuck in a Ministry lift (with seven other people present).

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, Ron, Charlie, Arthur, original male character

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: humor, fluff

*complete*

Petty Theft by pinksnowboots

Plot: Percy pilfers Oliver's sweater. The twins are suspicious.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: slice of life, drabble, sweaters, accidental coming out, established relationship, sharing clothes, quidditch, Oliver is protective

*complete*

Five Times Percy Thought Oliver was Beautiful and One Time Oliver Did Something About It by hufflebadgerinthetardis

Plot: The rule worshiping, strict, and by-the-books Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley has a secret. He’s got a huge crush on fellow Gryffindor and Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood. Percy was resigned to loving him from afar but he should have remembered that secrets don’t stay secrets for long at Hogwarts.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: none

*complete*

Burn Across the Sky by MoonytheMarauder1 (beforethemoon)

Plot: When Oliver Wood stops talking about Quidditch to stare at Percy Weasley, Ron, Fred, and George know something is up.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Katie

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: secret relationship, bad matchmaking, humor, protective siblings, quidditch, gay Percy, gay Oliver, injury, the hospital wing, exasperated Hermione, Harry is oblivious

My Notes: this isn’t the full plot, but it was very long and I only have so much time. Read this, it’s very cute

*complete*

I dare you to dare me by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Fred didn’t even blink. “Harry said he didn’t want to join.” “So did I,” Oliver murmured. George didn’t allow him to stall any longer. He put his feet up between Fred and Angelina on the sofa and tilted his chair on its hind two legs. “Oliver, mate, truth or dare?”

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell

Relationships: Percy/Oliver

Warnings: none

Tags: truth or dare, Gryffindor Quidditch Team, the consumption of innocent earthworms, fluff

*complete*

It’s the truth by SquaresAreNotCircles

Plot: Fred and George refuse to believe Percy has a girlfriend. Oliver seems to know more. It's all very mysterious, until it isn't.

Characters: Percy, Oliver, Fred, George, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood

Warnings: none

Tags: fluff

My Notes: Percy and Oliver really are just teenage Sherlock and John, aren’t they? Just saner and have less crimes involved.

*complete*

Harry Potter (stand-alone)

Harry Potter and His Increasingly Worrying Letters Home by hopeless_hope

Plot: Dear Mum & Dad, Sorry my letters have been brief lately. I hope you’re all well! Just wanted to let you know that my friends and I stumbled upon a three-headed dog on the forbidden corridor that the stairs rather determinedly took us to. Is that normal? Love, Harry… or In which Lily and James survive Voldemort's attack, Sirius is never sent to Azkaban, and long-distance parenting is hard. Especially when your reckless Gryffindor child keeps sending concerning letters home and rushing into trouble before anyone has the chance to respond.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Draco, Snape, Dumbledore

Relationships: James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Harry & Lily; Harry & James; Harry & Sirius; Harry & Hermione & Ron

Warnings: none

Tags: everyone lives/nobody dies, Lily and James live, angst and humor, the Golden Trio, most things are the same except now harry has adults who care about him, the marauders are a lil happy family, not peter tho bc fuck that guy, fix-it, friendship, harry grows up with a loving family but he’s still a reckless little shit

My Notes: this is another fic I’m very excited about. Reading new fics is something I don’t do often, I usually sort my fics by kudos and go backwards from there which usually means I miss out on amazing stuff like this! I do have to wait, which is a pain, but I’m still very excited about this fic, I see a lot of potential in it.

*incomplete* [last updated 1 August]

turn and face the strange by viennawaitss

Plot: ‘He sees himself as a creature of evolution, or perhaps a phantom of peculiarities - a great, winding python, yearning for the snap of his jaw, a snowy lamb, unchristened and stumbling across land on trembling legs.’ Reality, growth and the steps toward change. Or, how Harry’s brief expulsion isn’t the worst thing to happen to him.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Blaise, Pansy, Sirius, Theo Nott, Draco

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: resorting, trauma, nightmares, the Golden Trio, book 5, Slytherin Harry, friendship, mental health issues, growing up, coming of age, and already fighting the government

My Notes: I am so freaking excited for this fic! It has everything I want! Resorted Slytherin Harry, dealing with abuse and trauma, amazing Slytherin friendships, I mean come on!

*incomplete* [last updated 19 August]

Know this: in some way, you’re already dead by ulittuq

Plot: Harry has been fighting against being an obscurial his entire life and Sirius’ death is what pushes him over the edge.

Characters: Harry, Dumbledore, Tom Riddle

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, canonical character death, some noncanonical character death, suicidal thoughts

Tags: obscurial Harry, ambiguous/open ending

My Notes: part of a series but both fics are very short. It's only about 2k words.

*complete*

The Chosen One and The Halfblood Prince by waitingondaisies

Plot: Severus Snape was discovered as a spy mere days before the start of the school year. Thankfully, Albus had been working on a vague contingency plan for this possibility. It had been inspired by the question, “What would it take for Severus Snape to see that he was wrong about Harry Potter?” The answer? Force Severus to go undercover as Alfonse “Eli” Hopkirk, a sixth year Gryffindor.

Characters: Harry, Ginny, Snape, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Neville, Luna

Relationships: Harry & Ginny; Harry & Snape; Hermione/Ron

Warnings: child abuse

Tags: angst, undercover, Harry needs a hug, slow burn friendship, Ginny is a good friend, not canon compliant - HBP, no Snape as defensive teacher, no Slughorn

My Notes: this one is so fun! Snape tries to act as a sixteen year old and it goes as well as you’d think. It’s really funny but also really heartfelt, it’s part of a series of two and the second one is more Severitus than the first.

*complete*

By His Side by silver_fish

Plot: After what is surely a more-than-preventable potions accident, Harry Potter winds up stuck in the hospital wing, unable to wake up. Severus just wishes he knew why Poppy won’t stop bothering him about it.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Pomfrey, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore

Relationships: Harry & Snape

Warnings: references to addiction

Tags: severitus I guess? Just some good bonding, set during HBP, harry is sad and so am i, emotional hurt/comfort

*complete*

Unmasked Lilly’s - Year One by TheWillofTheQuill

Plot: Severus Snape was adamant, no - determined to hate Harry Potter. After all, he was the spawn of James Potter, his childhood bully. But when Harry turns up for his first year, malnourished and fearful, it is up to Snape to solve the mystery of why the small boy has bruises that he will not show and scars that will not heal. Sworn to protect Lilly's son, Severus Snape is about to face his hardest challenge yet; gaining the trust of a boy who has sworn to never trust again.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, Draco, Hermione

Relationships: future Drarry

Warnings: child abuse

Tags: Severitus, hurt/comfort, angst, abused Harry, Snape adopts Harry, Slytherin Harry, good Slytherins

*incomplete* [last updated July 2021]

A Pair of Shoes that Fit by Darkorangecat (Calacious)

Plot: Harry is lost in the Forbidden Forest when he goes looking for Neville’s Remembrall after Draco steals it from the boy once again. As Harry wanders the forest, wondering if he’ll ever make it back to Hogwarts, the entire staff is sent out to look for him, including a much peeved Severus Snape.

Characters: Harry, Snape

Relationships: none

Warnings: child abuse and neglect

Tags: Snape eventually adopts Harry, first year, hurt/comfort, angst

My Notes: this one is so cute and so sad, Harry’s only eleven in this fic and Snape is trying his best

*complete*

The Guiltless by branwyn

Plot: When Harry appears at the Welcoming Feast wearing a glamor only Snape notices, Snape decides to find out what the glamor is hiding.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Luna, Dumbledore

Relationships: Harry & Snape & Luna

Warnings: domestic violence, child abuse

Tags: Severitus, Snape mentors Harry, hurt/comfort

*complete*

Within Doors by Lomonaaeren

Plot: It takes three detentions for Severus Snape to realize why Harry Potter cleans cauldrons so well—and even more for him to decide what to do about it.

Characters: Harry, Snape

Relationships: Harry & Snape

Warnings: canonical child abuse

Tags: angst, detention, present tense

*complete*

Summer of Bonding by MagicaDraconia16

Plot: It was the summer of love . . . er, no, not really. Left waiting for the Dursleys, Harry is found by the last person he'd expect to see.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Hermione, Ron, Molly, Fred, George, original house-elf characters, original male character, Stan Shunpike, Dobby

Relationships: Harry & Severus

Warnings: canon-typical violence, child abandonment, minor violence

Tags: humor, angst, nightmares of canon-typical violence, spiders, awkwardness, someone else (not Snape or Harry) dies too

My Notes: this one is so sweet and really captures how awkward Harry and Snape are

*complete*

Harry Potter & Everything

Raising Harry Collection by Steerpike13713

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Daredevil, Sherlock, Labyrinth, Batman, Gravity Falls, MCU, Once Upon a Time, Doctor Strange (comics), Buffy, Merlin

Plot: A collection of unrelated fics that have to do with people other than The Dursleys raising Harry Potter

Characters: too many to name, really

Relationships: Matt Murdock/Foggy & Belle/Rumplestiltskin

Warnings: none

Tags: genderqueer Loki, genderqueer Lily Evans, Loki is Lily Evans Potter

My Notes: since the fics are unrelated you can flip flop around the chapters to find the ones you really want to read. I think my favorite ones are the Batman and Daredevil ones :) (also the author wrote a really good Lucifer & Chaos Adventures of Sabrina series)

*complete*

#harry potter #fanfiction #fic recs #fanfic recs #supernatural #sherlock #johnlock #hogwarts #the mauraders #wolfstar #drarry #the golden trio #my posts #mcu #marvel #harry james potter #my recs

[jamlavender]

Unholy Ghosts deleted scene: Chaos Family Christmas

I was reminded of this fic the other day, and after giving it a scan I remembered that the first version of the Christmas scene was very different to the one I ended up including in the posted story. This first draft was longer and more comedic, and I decided to write another because the fic was already so long and the tone had already become more contemplative. Upon giving that first draft a reread, though, I thought it was funny, and have decided to share it here! 

The necessary backstory for this is: Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter avoided falling into the abyss (though still killed Metatron) and tricked Lyra into coming North five years later. After a rocky start, she spends her winter break with them. This is towards the end of the fic, and if you want to read about how they got to this point (or why she’s calling them Asriel and Marisa) you can read the full story here. Also, for some of the jokes to work, the version of Boreal mentioned in this is the older version from the books. I hope you enjoy! 

One day, Lyra was wandering around the Saariselkä market with her mother, a migraine having confined a foul-tempered Asriel to the bedroom for the afternoon, when she spotted the date on a newspaper stacked outside the post office. Tucked away in the cabin, she’d largely lost track of time. “Look!” she said to Pan, who was rolling around in the snow. “It’s December twenty-third. It’s almost Christmas!”

They arrived home that afternoon with the usual spoils, along with a freshly plucked snow goose and a stack of root vegetables, ideal for roasting. They’d also found some sweet pears and fresh cream, which they could poach in red wine for dessert. Her mother had even let Lyra drive the motorsledge home, the wind whipping through their hair and flushing their cheeks the same bright pink as they charged over the white hills back to the cabin, both of them beaming, unbeknownst to the other.

Her father went off on a tirade when they explained what the purchases were for, of course, ranting and raving, saying that he hadn’t thrown God into an endless abyss to then celebrate his son’s birth like a sycophant. Marisa simply nodded along while she melted chocolatl into milk on the stove and spiked it with brandy, then guided Lyra to the sofa, mugs in hand, and whispered, “Let’s just wait for him to tire himself out, hmm?” which made Lyra laugh, and then she felt guilty for laughing, as she still did whenever they shared a shred of affection.

Lyra assumed that she’d prepare the meal alone on the day itself, but confronted with a sack of dirt-encrusted potatoes and a whole goose carcass, to say nothing of the chard or the gravy or the dessert, she realised that she might benefit from some assistance. She peered across the room to the lounge; her father was stretched on the sofa with a notebook on one leg and a newspaper on the other. She marched over with her hands on her hips. “There are too many potatoes for me to peel on my own, not if I’m going to stuff and season the goose too. I can’t do it all myself. You have to help me.”

He frowned. “I’m working.”

Lyra peered at his sparse scrawls. “You haven’t written a sentence in an hour.”

“I’m mulling,” he said petulantly, though Stelmaria had lifted her head, her ears twitching.  

Lyra folded her arms, spurred on by his dæmon’s mild enthusiasm. “It’s Christmas.”

“You know that means nothing to me.”

“I don’t care.” They stared at each other, an imperious mirror image. She raised an eyebrow. “Marisa’s excited about it, about us celebrating together. I can tell her that you’re refusing to participate, if you’d prefer that.”

The corner of his lip twitched, the hint of a smirk. “Are you trying to play us off each other?”

“Is it working?”

He sighed. “Can’t your mother do it?”

“She’s even more useless than you are. And she’s in the bath.”

Stelmaria got to her feet with a yawn and padded into the kitchen, giving Asriel no choice but to follow, a scowl etched across his face and a triumphant grin sprawled across Lyra’s.

She put him to work preparing the snow goose for the oven while she mixed fennel and star anise and salt together for the seasoning, grinding the spices in an old granite mortar with a chipped pestle and adding a squirt of lemon juice at the end. She’d assumed that he could handle basic meat preparation – her parents’ brutal reindeer butchery had made it clear that he knew his way around a cleaver – but when she checked on his progress, her eyes widened. She’d tasked him with lightly scouring the goose’s legs and breast with a knife to help the fat render, and he’d interpreted that as gouging deep trenches into the bird, burying the knife into the carcass.

“Asriel!” she said, grabbing the knife from him. “God, no, not like that. Like this.”

He rolled his eyes as she instructed him, dragging the fine point of the knife over the goose’s other leg. He tried again and immediately created a deep channel in the bird’s flesh. Lyra glared at him.

“Have you ever been gentle in your life?”

He let his head roll towards her. “What do you think?”

She shook her head and took over, passing him the peeler instead and shoving him towards the pile of potatoes she’d already scrubbed clean. “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me,” she muttered, tracing delicate scratches into the bird’s skin and then rubbing the seasoning into the fresh grooves. “Threatening to break my arm was your first instinct when I was a child – don’t think I don’t remember you putting me in an armlock in the retiring room, or all those times you dragged me to Mrs Lonsdale by the wrists – and then you tore the bloody sky in half! When it wasn’t even necessary. But that’s just what you’re like, isn’t it – ”

“What?” Asriel had paused, peeler in one hand, semi-shorn potato in the other. Lyra blinked; she’d assumed that he’d just tuned her out.

“Nothing. I was just commenting on your inability to do anything with restraint.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t necessary?”

She stared at him. “Well, there were lots of windows already, weren’t there? Even in Oxford. But no, you had to go all the way to the North – ”

He dropped the peeler onto the countertop with a clatter. “There were other windows? In our world?”

“Yeah,” she said, sharing a nervous glance with Pan. “You – you didn’t know about them?”

“How could I?” he said. “Within days of leaving Svalbard this world was several windows away. I didn’t spare a thought for home until your mother and I returned. How many? Where are they? Did you say Oxford?”

“They’re closed now,” Lyra said, an unwelcome memory of Will’s face disappearing behind a cruel, luminous seam in the air coming to her mind. “And I only knew about a few, the Oxford ones, mostly, though Will’s dad must’ve come through one too. But they’d been around for ages, they must have. I mean, Latrom had been crossing for years.” She tilted her head. “You really didn’t know that there were other windows? Even now?”

“No,” he snapped, Stelmaria grizzling beside him. “No one deigned to tell me. And who’s this Latrom?”

“That creepy collector guy, with the snake-dæmon. Oh, he had a different name in our world…”

“Boreal,” Pantalaimon piped up from beside her. “Lord Boreal.”

Her father’s eyes widened. “Boreal was travelling between worlds?”

Lyra nodded. “He’d been at it for ages. Decades, I suppose. He ran a big company in Will’s world and had travelled all over, collecting things for his weird basement. I think he was trying to impress Marisa. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.”

That made Stelmaria growl, and Lyra’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“Your mother went with him? To another world?”

“She was looking for me, I think,” Lyra admitted. “Latrom – Boreal – whatever, he’d stolen my alethiometer to force us bring him the knife, and she came to intercept us. That didn’t work either.”

At that moment, her mother swanned into the kitchen, wearing a red cashmere dress and a coal-black shawl, a fragrant bloom of perfume following her, the intertwining notes of rose and myrrh a smell Lyra had come to recognise as soon as it appeared in the air. She smiled at the sight of them, Asriel and Lyra side by side in the kitchen, though the joy was wiped from her face as soon as Asriel exploded, “You went to another world with Boreal?”

Marisa glared at Lyra, and she took Pan in her arms at once and clutched him to her chest. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t realise it was a secret!” Lyra said. “It was years ago!”

“When I asked you to go to another world with me, you refused. But when he asked – ”

The golden monkey was pulling gently on Stelmaria’s ears, trying to placate her, but Marisa herself seemed unperturbed. She poured herself a glass of wine, the same deep red as her dress, and leaned against the dining table. “He had something to offer me that served my own interests. You wanted me to simply abandon my life’s work in favour of yours, without a moment’s hesitation or complaint.”

“Semantics,” Asriel growled.

Marisa sipped her wine, pursing her lips, unbearably smug. “Are you jealous, darling? I thought you didn’t care about my lovers.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You and he… ugh! That’s disgusting!”

“Thank you, Lyra,” her father said, smirking.

“He was so… so smarmy, and so old, even then!” Lyra said.

“He was not that old,” her mother snapped, shooting daggers at Asriel when he laughed.

“Trust me,” Asriel said, leaning towards Lyra but not lowering his voice, “she went older.”

“I don’t want to know!” Lyra said, at the same time Marisa growled, “Asriel.” The golden monkey’s soothing caresses became a vicious wrench, and then both Asriel and Stelmaria were grimacing.

Lyra shook her head, reaching for the warped tin tray holding the goose and carrying it over to the oven. “Ugh,” she said again, shivering slightly, thinking of Lord Boreal’s oily voice and vault of trinkets. “You did that to find me and I still got away. No wonder you were furious.” She closed the cast-iron door with a smack. “What happened to him, anyhow?”

“An altercation with a spectre,” her mother said smoothly. “If he’d been paying more attention, perhaps he’d have seen it coming. Alas.”  

“You quite certain that the old snake’s heart didn’t just give out?” Asriel said, irritation transformed neatly into amusement. “As your daughter has emphasised so thoroughly, he was getting on.”

“Seems rather hypocritical to be goading me about the age of one’s lovers, hmm?” her mother said, with a sneer. “How old was that Latvian witch? Five hundred? Six?”

“Hard to say, given that she looked younger even than you,” Asriel said, leaning back against the counter with a smug smile. The monkey bit Stelmaria, and Asriel grunted.

“Stop it,” Lyra said, pressing her hands to her ears. “Ugh, just – just stop it! Both of you!”

Her parents glanced at Lyra, and then looked back to each other. Silence fell across the trio, and just as Lyra thought that the ghastly conversation was over, her father said, “She was four hundred, I’ll have you know. The witch you’re thinking of was Siberian, and she was – ”

“You’re both so infuriating!” Lyra said, storming out of the kitchen into her bedroom, closing the door with a slam.  

She sat on her bed and folded her arms, expecting one of them to come and find her, but it soon became clear that her flouncing off had done little to end the argument. She could hear them bickering, two familiar tones resonating through the cabin’s wooden walls, with the occasional sharper snap or outraged shout. Then she heard the sound of glass smashing and a chair scraping across the ground. Lyra lay back on her bed with a groan, slotting her head beneath her pillow and pressing the soft cotton to her ears.

She waited a few minutes before resurfacing, pleased that the brawl had quietened, and then spent several more minutes flicking through her book, hoping that their tempers would have burned themselves out by the time she returned to the kitchen. But when she made her grand reappearance, expecting to see some contrition on their faces, even just a grain of sand’s worth, she found the kitchen empty, the only sound the faint hiss of the kettle on the stove. She looked around the empty room, noting the glass shards on the floor by the sink. “Do you think one of them ran off, and the other followed?” Pan said, peering out of the window.

“Their coats are still here…” Lyra said, frowning.

At that moment, the workshop door swung open and her father appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed, and he was tucking his shirt back into his trousers. “Oh. You’re back.”

Lyra stared at him. He glanced at the oven, chest heaving. “Is that goose ready yet? I’m starving.”

Her mouth fell open. “You – you – ” She shook her head. “Oh my god!”

“Lyra, darling,” her mother said breathlessly, appearing beside Asriel, her face the same deep crimson as the dress she was still straightening.

“You two are a disgrace,” Lyra said, with all the admonition she could muster, but her father only snorted. She turned and stalked back to her bedroom. “Disgusting. Disgusting!”

This time her mother did appear after a few minutes, her wild hair neatened and her face dusted with powder, Lyra scowling beneath the covers and pretending to read when the knock came at the door. Marisa opened it and skulked inside, looking – perhaps for the first time in Lyra’s memory – truly embarrassed, her cheeks still aflame, now for different reasons.

“I’m sorry about that, darling,” she said, running a hand through her curls. “I don’t know what came over me. Now, won’t you join us in the kitchen again, hmm? I’ve mixed you a drink, with the cloudberry jenniver. I know that it’s your favourite.”

Lyra gave her an unimpressed glare. Her mother smiled sweetly, one hand stroking her dæmon’s golden back. “And you know your father doesn’t know what to do with a paring knife, nor a roast potato or a pear. It would be such a shame to see your lovely meal ruined, wouldn’t it? I certainly don’t know when to take the bird out of the oven.”

That got her out of bed, her mother’s hand rubbing gently between her shoulder blades as they returned to the kitchen. Her father was hacking at the pile of potatoes again, a half-finished cocktail by his side.

“There you are,” he said, holding out her drink. Lyra took a sip and suppressed a hum as the sweet spirit hit her throat. He gestured to the countertop. “Now, what do you want me to do with these?” he said. Before long, their workflow had resumed, Asriel scoffing at Lyra’s comments on his knife skills but following her instructions nonetheless, while her mother sat at the table and offered unhelpful suggestions, a glass of wine in her hand and her feet propped up on a chair.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Pan said after Marisa had made a particularly useless remark. Despite herself, Lyra smirked.

This is a deleted scene from my story Unholy Ghosts, in which Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter survive the abyss and reunite with their daughter. You can read the full story on AO3. 

#my fics #chaos family #lord asriel #marisa coulter #lyra belacqua #bad parenting #i thought this was funny idk #this is a crack fic tbh #the full fic is a lot less silly

[drowning-in-dennor]

To Know

Henrik and Stellan answer questions about each other. (Warning: Crass jokes, sappiness, many, many innuendos.) All the questions were taken from here.

[Stellan picks up the sheet of paper, glaring at it as though personally offended. Henrik, laughing, swipes it out of his hand and adjusts the camera.]

Henrik: Hey, everyone! Today we’re doing some sort of challenge. I honestly don’t know what this is, but... yeah! Let’s do this!

[Staring nervously at the camera, Stellan reaches over to take Henrik’s hand.]

Stellan: Yeah, let’s get this over with.

Question One: Describe them when you first met.

Henrik: Cute!

Stellan: Annoying.

[Henrik pouts and stares at Stellan.]

Stellan: You walked up to me while I was reading and went, “yo, is that H.C. Andersen?”, then proceeded to grab the book out of my hands. Asshole.

Question Two: How tall are they?

Stellan: A hundred and eighty-three centimetres.

Henrik: One seventy-nine.

Question Three: What’s their ancestry background?

Stellan: Yeah, this one’s obvious.

Henrik: Easy.

Stellan: Danish-Swedish, born on Gotland.

Henrik: And Stell’s Norwegian-Icelandic, grew up on Svalbard.

Question Four: When’s their birthday?

Henrik: May seventeenth.

Stellan: June fifth.

[They look at each other. Henrik cracks a grin.]

Henrik: Don’t ask about the year. We don’t remember.

Question Five: What’s the first thing they’d buy if they won the lottery?

Stellan: Enough cloth and thread to clothe an army, along with probably all the embroidery supplies the world has to offer.

Henrik: A butter factory.

[Stellan groans, smacking his forehead.]

Stellan: No.

Henrik: Hold up, what?

Stellan: I’d probably use it to buy some land and grow stuff. Or I’d buy those big oil companies and order them to switch to natural resources.

Henrik: That’s my Stell, always caring about the environment.

[Henrik leans over to kiss Stellan on the cheek.]

Question Six: What’s their favourite band?

Henrik: Stellan’s not a band person.

[Stellan rolls his eyes.]

Stellan: Our band. And yes, we have a band.

Henrik: You bet your ass we have a band! It’s the best one in Europe, if you ask me.

Stellan: Please don’t remind me.

Question Seven: What’s their favourite meal?

[Henrik grins suggestively.]

Stellan: I know what you’re going to say, don’t say it.

Henrik: My a-

Stellan: Don’t you dare.

Henrik: My apple tarts. Seriously, he asks me to make them all the time.

[Stellan hides his face in his hands and mumbles something.]

Henrik: We can’t hear you, babe!

Stellan: Sosekjøtt. This fucker next to me really likes it when I make sosekjøtt.

[Pincing Stellan’s cheeks, Henrik laughs as his hands are swatted away.]

Question Eight: What’s their favourite physical feature about you?

[Stellan turns red.]

[Henrik laughs, nuzzling Stellan and dodging a poke to his nose.]

Henrik: Aww, no need to be shy about it! You know you like my hands, especially when they’re-

[Stellan gestures at the camera.]

Stellan: Apparently Henrik likes my smile, so I’d say my... mouth?

Henrik: Yeah, they look great when you’re-

[Henrik yelps as Stellan kicks him from under the table.]

Question Nine: What’s their favourite personality trait about you?

Stellan: That’s a lot to choose from, but I think he likes that I’m calm and collected.

Henrik: You’re right! And, uh, I know you like that I’m funny, don’t you?

[Reluctantly, Stellan smiles at Henrik and nods.]

Question Ten: What type of clothing looks best on them?

Henrik: Stellan really, really likes it when I wear suits, even when he steps on my feet and messes up my nice shoes. 

Stellan: One look at Henrik’s camera roll will tell you that he goes batshit when he sees me wearing his jackets or scarves.

[Henrik scrolls through his phone, showing the screen to the camera. An album, titled ‘Stell wearing my stuff’, is shown.]

[Stellan grabs Henrik’s phone.]

Stellan: You have an entire six-hundred-and-eighty-eight-photo album of me? Why am I asleep in so many of these?

Henrik: I couldn’t resist, you look so cute!

Stellan: Why do I have on nothing but - delete those!

Question Eleven: What word describes them best first thing in the morning?

Stellan: Bleary. Once, he thought I was having a nightmare, yelled in Danish and ‘reassuringly’ grabbed my face, the dumb shit.

Henrik: Dopey.

Stellan: Excuse me?

Henrik: You’re like a confused kitten! 

[Stellan kicks him under the table again.]

Question Twelve: What would they say is their worst physical feature?

Henrik: Stell complains about his left middle finger a lot. It’s crooked from holding a pen all the time, but it just makes it even more dramatic when he flips people off.

Stellan: He doesn’t like how pointy his nose is, which I never get. 

Question Thirteen: What’s their best talent?

Stellan: Embroidery.

Henrik: Writing.

Stellan: Henrik’s tapestries are amazing. He works so hard on them and they’re all masterpieces, and-

[He suddenly remembers that he’s being filmed, and looks down, flustered.]

Question Fourteen: What are they terrible at?

Henrik: Huh, that’s a hard question.

Stellan: Oh, I’ve got many answers.

Henrik: Hey!

Stellan: Saying the right things at the right times.

Henrik: Keeping his desk clean.

Stellan: Once, Tino was venting to me about how he lost his favourite book, and Henrik just burst in and was like, “’tis I, the guy who wants to die.”

[Henrik slams his head down on the table.]

Henrik: Yeah... let’s not talk about that.

Question Fifteen: What’s their perfect pizza?

Stellan: We don’t eat pizza.

Henrik: Yeah, Stell would sooner go hungry than order it.

Question Sixteen: What’s their favourite alcoholic beverage?

Henrik: Most of the time Stell gets akvavit, but I know he really likes champagne when we can get it.

Stellan: Beer. If not for the health risks, I’m pretty sure Henrik could drink beer all the time.

Henrik: My favourite’s Gammel Dansk, actually, but you’re not far off!

[Stellan claps the table, his other hand going to cover his mouth.]

Stellan: Fuck!

Question Seventeen: What’s their favourite cuisine?

Stellan: Pretty sure it’s Dutch.

Henrik: Norwegian...?

Stellan: You’re wrong.

[Henrik stares at him.]

Henrik: But it’s all you cook! 

Stellan: They’re family recipes, dummy. My favourite’s Japanese.

Henrik: Well, I eat Norwegian almost every night!

[Stellan glares at Henrik and gets up from his chair, walking away.]

Henrik: Wait, come back!

Question Eighteen: What’s their favourite Disney movie?

Henrik: The Little Mermaid.

Stellan: Frozen, even though people think it’s my favourite.

Henrik: I thought you’d like it because of the trolls!

Stellan: You all are delusional if you think trolls are going to give you valid relationship advice.

[Henrik laughs, clapping Stellan on the shoulder.]

Question Nineteen: What’s their most-used curse word?

Stellan: Dammit, fuck it, or anything with an “it”.

Henrik: Shit.

[Stellan looks at Henrik as though enlightened.]

Stellan: Shit, you’re right.

Henrik: HA!

Question Twenty: What adjective describes them in the bedroom?

[Henrik grins perversely and leans over to whisper to Stellan, who glares at him and desperately tries to cool down his reddening face.]

Henrik: Contained. Wild, but the controlled type. Does that make sense?

Stellan: ...dangerous.

[Stellan tries not to fall off his chair.]

Henrik: Aw, yeah, my danger makes stuff really exciting!

Stellan: Shush.

Question Twenty-One: Which one’s funnier?

[Stellan points at Henrik.]

[Henrik points at Stellan.]

[They both stare at each other for a moment before laughing.]

Question Twenty-Two: Who dances better?

Henrik: Stell, hands-down. He teaches ballet at the local studio.

[Stellan shows a video of Henrik dancing to the camera, stifling his laughter.]

Stellan: The only type of dance Henrik can do is awkward dad dancing, solely to embarrass Harald.

Question Twenty-Three: What nicknames do they give you?

Stellan: No.

Henrik: Come on, just tell ‘em!

Stellan: Nei.

[Henrik whispers to him again, and he sighs.]

Stellan: Kanin. It means ‘bunny’, apparently.

Henrik: He’s so old-fashioned! Sometimes when I’m working on my tapestries, I hear Stell go, “darling, can you get me some coffee?” or something like that, and it’s so cute. But again, at night he calls me ‘Mas’-”

Stellan: NO.

Question Twenty-Four: Who uses the Internet more?

Henrik: He shitposts. A lot. For a bestselling author who writes for Disney, you wouldn’t imagine him to be on the Internet a lot posting stuff like “I brewed some leaf juice”.

Stellan: Henrik really only goes online to look for photos or buy stuff.

Question Twenty-Five: If they’re on YouTube, what are they watching?

Stellan: Videos of the songs I wrote lyrics to, or dead memes. I caught him playing the ten-hour loop of “Yee” the other day.

Henrik: He listens to ancient music.

[Stellan crosses his arms indignantly.]

Stellan: They’re from the nineteen hundreds, that’s hardly old. Uncultured pencil.

Henrik: Pencil?

Stellan: Uncultured shit, if that’s what you prefer.

Question Twenty-Six: If they could travel back in time, where would they go?

Henrik: The fifties.

Stellan: The Viking age, clearly.

Question Twenty-Seven: What do they have too much of?

Stellan: Photos, most of them of me.

Henrik: Notebooks.

Stellan: Those notebooks are filled with important drafts!

Henrik: Well, those photos are of important people!

[Henrik sniggers as Stellan blushes for the umpteenth time.]

Question Twenty-Eight: Which of their pickup lines really got you?

Henrik: “You’re amazing.”

Stellan: You still remember that from ten years ago? That’s barely even a pickup line.

Henrik: Of course!

Stellan: “If you need somebody to cuddle with, I’m always down for it!” 

[Henrik grins and wraps his arms around Stellan.]

Question Twenty-Nine: What’s their favourite emoji?

[They both take out their phones to type.]

[Stellan shows his first.]

Stellan: ♡. He’s ridiculously sappy.

[Henrik shows the emoji on his screen.]

Henrik: Stell doesn’t use emojis, but the emoticon he sends the most is (._.).

Question Thirty: Draw your partner.

[Henrik draws a simple sketch, displaying it proudly.]

[Stellan draws a stick figure.]

Henrik: Holy crap!

Stellan: I’m good at writing, not drawing. Now shut up.

...

Henrik: So, that’s the end of the challenge, and I hope you liked it!

Stellan: I certainly didn’t.

Henrik: Bye!

Stellan: Thank goodness it’s over.

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing

[mitchm-arner]

Best Friend // Mitch Marner

Playlist

Listen to your friends by Declan McKenna

Girl Crush by Harry Styles

Loving is easy by Rex Orange County

Fool by Cavetown

Waves by Chloe Moriondo

I don’t wanna be okay without you by Charlie Burg

It’s U by Cavetown

Lose it by SWMRS

Best Friend by Rex Orange County

A song about being sad by Rex Orange County

Bitches broken hearts by Billie Eilish

I wanted to write this for awhile and I hope it’s not terrible. These songs are the main basis as to why I’m writing this so I hope you enjoy and thank you! The playlist is on my spotify it’s called Best Friend // m.m if you’d like to listen. I’ll be adding more to it later on but for now that’s all I want to include.

September 29th, 2018

I walked home from my last class of the day glad to be heading home to my warm apartment. Living in Toronto you get used to the cold fall days that seemed to last longer than ever. I wrapped my scarf around my ears and face so I would get some sort of warmth. As I was lost in thought I felt my phone buzz but decided to ignore it trying to think things from my past and not worry about now which happens a lot.

I walked around the city complaining to my best friend at the time, Mitch, who decided to carry me the rest of the way home. We had gone out to celebrate my last match of golf for the season. I had the lowest scores and had many colleges looking at me for the future.

“Liz, please don’t leave me alone here.”

“Mitch what are you talking about?”

“When you go to college please don’t forget me.”

“How could I ever forget you! You’ll be famous because of hockey don’t even get me started.”

“What if that doesn’t work out?”

“Trust me Marner. It will.”

I snapped out of it and felt the slight warmth of a tear slip out of my right eye. I was grateful for having Mitch in my life at that time but yet, I then felt a wave of sadness take over and let a few tears fall down my face before I wiped them on my scarf. I was so in love with him but I always thought he never loved me in that way. Our senior year he was with me twenty-four-seven. People thought he was my boyfriend but yet he never was.

Mitch went onto greater things in life and got drafted into the NHL that year to play for our favorite team, The Maple Leafs. I went onto other things as well. I got a scholarship to a college in our area for Golf and I took it. It’s funny how things work out like that almost like it was meant to be for us.

He promised he’d see me almost every week after his practices and talk to me every night. He kept that promise up for a month but people get busy and things are different when you start to not see someone everyday. Everything became overwhelming for him and I understood since he was obviously playing professional hockey.

I walked into my small apartment locking the door and staring at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t the best looking girl around but when I tried you could say I looked a lot better. I took the scarf off letting my hair somewhat just fall everywhere. The dye of it washing out from its light brown to a golden color. I hated it. I looked as if I had seen a ghost that’s how pale i’d gotten since the last year of high school. I used to be tan and glowing now, I look as if I could be dead. Golf practice was taking a lot out of me this year which caused me to lose sleep over it.

I decided that maybe I should clean myself up more often and not just let everything crash on me all over again. I went to my bathroom and grabbed the box of dye my old roommate left here before she left. It was a darker brown then I had been used to. I knew this was how it was going to be from now on.

After it was done and I had washed it out I decided to make dinner since I needed it desperately. I decided to make something out of a cookbook my Mother gave to me before I moved in so I could learn a bit more about cooking for myself. I knew basics and mainly Italian food but Golf put me on a strict diet of no carbs or sugar. I hardly follow it now since I usually work it off and only eat the serving sizes.

I looked out the window seeing as it was already dark and watched the city lights sparkle like cameras flashing. I bet Mitch was doing well with his life I really haven’t been looking at anything he posts or says. I almost altogether stopped watching any hockey because it made me upset. I knew one day he’d be greater than I could ever be and I’m proud he made it. I pulled out my laptop and started typing before my I could even process it I was looking at his Instagram. I saw  beautiful girl who was blonde and overall much more than I’d ever be. She looked put together and just stunning. I saw that Mitch had his big goofy smile on his face the one he always gave me when he was proud or just genuinely happy. God how I wish he’d smile at me like that again.

My thoughts were interrupted by a slight knock that got louder as the person knocked. It seemed as if they weren’t sure if this was the right place or if it was just a random child who got lost. I deleted the stuff on my laptop and closed it getting up. I sighed and unlocked the door wrapping my blanket around my body still trying to get warm. When I opened the door all the way I almost slammed it shut but something was wrong.

“Liz?” Mitch stated almost unsure and almost broken.

“Yes?” I asked shocked that he’d show up on my doorstep at almost midnight.

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?” I said starting to get annoyed by his presence

“I’m sorry...I just want to talk.”

“You could have said this to me three years ago?” I scoffed.

“Please it’s a long story can I come in.”

I opened the door all the way motioning him to walk in and shut the door locking it. I watched as he looked around before sitting down on the couch, our couch. He looked at it and moved his hand on it as if he had lost the feeling in his hands. Before he could even get one word out he looked at me and started bawling his eyes out. I had no clue what to do or how to help so I did what I knew was best. I walked over to him and pulled him into my body while he cried into my shoulder as I tried to calm him down by rubbing his back; the same way he used to do for me.

Once he calmed down he looked me in the eyes and just pushed my hair out of my face. He looked as if he was cold and tired. He didn’t have his natural glow as he usually did which was unusual.

“Do you remember the last day I spoke to you?” he asked quietly almost a whisper

“Yes. Why?”

“That’s the day I had a game and I hit my head.”

“Okay?”

“I don’t know why it made me feel upset and I-I-I can’t”

“You can’t what? Mitch you’re scaring me.”

“I can’t believe I never told you”

“Mitch what the fuck is going on?”

“I need you in my life”

“Are you drunk? High? What is going on?”

“I’m sorry I was too dumb to notice my feelings for you.”

“What?”

“I love you Liz, no one else”

#mitch marner #torontomapleleafs #fanfic #auston matthews #william nylander #nhl hockey #hockey

[mottlemoth]

Leave it to me to go offscript, but my question isn't on the list, and it's one I've been meaning to ask. What's your writing process like? Do you write fairly clean drafts that require a minimum of polishing? Or are they akin to vomiting words and require several passes to edit, tighten and polish?

Redsie, my darling, I would go offscript for you any time.

My process, and how much editing I do, varies dramatically from chapter-to-chapter and day-to-day. I’ll try and go through this in detail, in case it’s helpful for anyone. 

And I’m popping this under a cut for the sake of people’s dashboards.

As a general rule, a chapter will take me several sessions of work. When I settle to write at the start of each session, I usually start by reading back through what’s there. I’ll tidy up any typos, watch out for repeated words (Mycroft whimpers a lot in my first drafts) and just give it all a gentle fluffing while I get cosy again in the sound of my own voice. 

When I’ve finished a chapter (or a short story, such as Kit or Diogenes) I’ll then close the file and let it sit overnight - or ideally for a couple of days - while I work on something else. 

It means that when I reopen it some time later, to get it ready so that you guys can have a read, I’ve slept and I can process it with a clean brain.

I then read my way through, listening for ‘pings’.

‘Ping’ sounds when a sentence doesn’t read quite right just yet. It flags up something that seems a little clunky, a little laborious, a repeat of something that’s already been established, or something a bit too fluffed-up and melodramatic. A lot of my personal ‘pings’ can be fixed by shifting something into the active voice, or by taking out unnecessary adverbs - or, if it’s really vexing me and I can’t work out why, it sometimes turns out I don’t want that sentence there at all.

So I brush my way gently through the chapter, combing out pings, watching for repetition, spotting touch-ups I could make. For example - recently I’m more selective with my adverbs. I’ve been running sentences through my mind with the adverb, and then without it, and quite often it turns out the sentence is happy without it. (If I like the adverb, then fuck it - the adverb stays. It’s my story and if Greg fucks the guy gently, he’s going to fuck him gently.)

I’ve also recently been looking out for ‘ping’  when I’ve used ‘-ing’ forms of a verb where the simple ‘-ed’ form would do. (”Mycroft was searching through the drawer.”) If I get a ping reading that (and sometimes I won’t! And it’s fine!) then I’ll trial ‘Mycroft searched through the drawer’ - and if that seems tidier, I’ll replace it.

I do things like try and keep dialogue to three or four sentences/utterances per go. (“Are you serious, Myke? We already ate there last week. I’m so sick of noodles.”) I saw it suggested somewhere as a tip, and I tried it - and I think it’s nice. So I use it now, unless it’s inconvenient - in which case my dialogue chunks will be as long as I like.

An important part of my editing process is the saving of cut bits. 

This is vital for me. 

I have files and files of them - sentences, paragraphs, entire scenes, entire chapters. I don’t ever delete a thing. I worked hard on those words. They’re good words, and I’m glad that I wrote them. Just because they don’t fit in the finished version of the story that I want to show you guys, it doesn’t mean that they’re bad words. So they go safe into a file to be kept, in case I want to use them some day.

If the brushing process was tough, or it took a while, I might put the chapter away again for another night. 

Essentially, when I can read through it all without sensing pings, just happily following along with what’s happening, I know it’s ready for you guys. Onto AO3 it goes.

All of this assumes that the underlying actions and events within the chapter are fine.

Which brings me onto The Case of Excultus.

I cannot begin to tell you the amount of editing (and trouble) that has gone into some sections of 'Skultus.

On two separate occasions, I’ve developed seriously swampy feelings while drafting, wondering why I’ve slowed down, what’s wrong with me, what the hell’s the matter. On both occasions I realised after several days of fretting that scenes had somehow been delivered to me (and I’d written them down) in the wrong order. Something in chapter twenty-seven actually needed to go in thirty. This bit from chapter thirty-one needed to go into twenty-eight. TJ can’t say that bit there; but without that line, that whole section can go four days back in time, and then it makes more sense.

(If you’re interested, the major turbulence struck chapters 27-32. I’ve undergone further problems in 41-44.)

Excultus has been a lot of work at times. This business of plot events in the wrong order has never happened to me before. I’ve also had to rescue Mycroft from several inconvenient mental breakdowns. I’ve had to wade into the two of them having furious arguments, and zap entire scenes to prevent it happening. I had to stop them having sex four times before they were allowed. I’ve had to take entire sex scenes out of the latter chapters, scenes that I adore, because they were too funny, too light - because they’re not fitting with that low thrumming cello you can all hear.

East End Boy wasn’t like this. I have very few cut bits from East End Boy - and they’re all cosmetic things, phrases and sentences and paragraphs, rather than entire 5000 word chapters like Excultus. 

At times, Excultus has been like vomiting things up that turn out to be something I haven’t even eaten yet. Or vomiting things up that are just the wrong type of vomit entirely. 

Some sections were breezy - especially the earlier parts. All they needed was that gentle brushing. The events happening were fine; character reactions to them were fine; everything was okay to go.

But the rest has sometimes felt like putting myself through a mangle.

It’s wholly worth it. 

Entirely worth it. 

The more work I put into ‘Skultus, and the more problems I surmount, the more I adore it. It’s been a vicious little snake to me at times. Weird things have happened, things I don’t understand until chapters later. I’ve loved every second of it.

I’d hate for anyone to think I slide this stuff out of nowhere.

But at the same time, I’m frankly horrified by the way some writers talk about editing. All this ‘slash things up’, ‘kill your babies’ crap - ‘delete at least so much of the first draft’. ‘Never use adverbs’.

No. 

Nonsense. 

Not helpful, not okay.

And not true.

Editing is brushing. Grooming. Gently working tangles out of this beautiful thing you have made, so that it’s smooth and easy and enjoyable for people to run their minds through. 

Even in the worst case scenario, when The Powers That Be decide to send me entire sections of story in the wrong order, it’s been utterly fixable. It just takes some time to think, a deep breath to say, “Okay, something’s not quite right here,” and the courage to wonder. 

“I wonder if Myke really needs to react that angrily.” 

“I wonder if I could replace this bit with a text conversation instead. That might be simpler, and fun to write.”

“I wonder if I have this discussion with Luke come earlier, then the scene later doesn’t need to include him and it solves the issue of why they’re at Scotland Yard. They can be at home instead.”

I’m ultimately a believer that you should write the things you want to read.

You should write your own favourite stories, and you should write them the way you want them to be. 

When a work is finished - finished for good, and I’ve written ‘The End’ - I’m far more inclined to leave it as it is and begin a new project, than start suddenly ripping up the foundations and changing plot or structure. I’ve been there, and it hurts. I’ve never seen it work out for the better, either. I’d rather start something fresh with what I’ve learned, than get into making huge changes. 

When the house is built, you can only amend so much. 

So you’re worried that you put the porch on wonky - that’s fine. Now you know how to make porches. Put a really posh one on the next house.

I wish I had a ‘just written’ chapter and a brushed one to show you all. I’ll see if I can remember to do that when I’ve finished Chapter 47.

This has become a very long reply - to a question I could probably have answered with ‘a bit of both’. 

I just remember the person I was several years ago, and how desperately she needed to hear this. The word ‘editing’ used to paralyse me to the heart - because I thought it meant taking a sledgehammer in both hands to the thing you love. 

It really doesn’t. 

It’s about giving it more love - stroking through to spot those pings, working them out, and reminding yourself how well you’ve done.

[sarcasticace]

.

. .

… 

Hello?

Is this thing on?

How do you work this thing? Oh, there it goes… Wait, was it already on? Oh, nevermind.

Hi, guys! Diego here, your friendly neighborhood struggling college student. Back at you again with another weekly vlog. Only this time… this video’s gonna be a little different than what you’re used to. 

See.

Mmmm.

Today’s the anniversary of the La Huerta event. Five years. You all know I was there. I get enough messages asking me what happened. I tend to ignore those.

Sorry.

I just…

It’s a lot, you know?

A lot of shit happened and I… I like to try and forget about it. Try and fail.

When I first started making videos, it was so I’d have an outlet to talk about things. This included. That was the plan, anyway, but… I’d start, but never go through with it and just delete the draft.

I’ll talk about it, one day, but not today… today I want to talk about what came after. You know, when we came back. I want to talk about how it…. affected us. How we’re doing. Me and my friends. So you know why I have problems talking about it to you guys. 

There were thirteen of us.

Myself, Terrance, Jake, Grace, Sean, Estela

Quinn, Aleister, Zahra, Raj, Craig, Michelle and…

and Lila.

…

She didn’t make it.

…

You all probably heard the story one way or another. Everett Rourke, think the Anti-Tony Stark if he was raised by Lex Luther and Dr. Doom. Rourke got his hands on some time-travel nonsense. I still don’t completely understand everything that happened. It was all such a whirlwind. One day I’ve having a beer by the hotel pool, watching Raj do a cannonball on top of Craig, the next I’m being taken pris-

… 

We stopped him, but… they put us in quarantine. We spent a long time in a lab. We’re were giving off this strange energy signature. They were worried we were radioactive or something. I don’t know, I’m not smart enough for that stuff, but after that they let us go home. So we went home, tried to forget and get on with our lives, but the thing is… you can’t forget. Not something like that. It catches up to you. The nightmares, mostly. What happened, what we did, what we didn’t do. 

…

It was different on the island. We were running from one dangerous situation to the next, dodging bullets and time paradoxes. Paradoxi? Paradoxes? Fuck, time bullshit. Like… fuck time travel. Back to the Future makes it sounds cool, like, I’d kill to ride in a DeLorean. But that’s movie stuff.

I guess I shouldn’t really be complaining. Terrance dealt with most of that bullshit. 

…

It really got to him.

Even on the island, he’d start talking about things that never happened. Conversations we never had, knowing things nobody told him. It freaked me out, but I think it freaked him out more. He had visions too. Bad ones. He doesn’t talk about them. Except with Michelle.

…

Terrance is doing good. Considering. He lives with Michelle. We don’t talk that much anymore. We’re still best friends, sure, but… he’s tired. He’s tired a lot, all the time. It’s good he’s living with Michelle. She makes sure he doesn’t stay in bed. I don’t think he’d actually stay there all day, every day, but….

Michelle is good for him. They’re good together. I’m kind of jealous.

Michelle is doing great. Missing so much school put her back, put us all back really, but she got back into the swing of things. She’s still planning to be a neurosurgeon which is cool. She still has a year or two to go, I think. I don’t think I could ever do that. The blood and-

…

When we finally got back stateside, well, out of the labs and back home… back to Hartfeld, Michelle went off on the Kappa girls. It was AH-MAH-ZING. So good. I think Zahra got it all. Next time I see her, I’ll try and get a copy and post it for you guys. Michelle just tears into them. Somebody call the fire department, you know?

Zahra is doing good. Considering. I’m probably going to be saying that a lot. She’s alone, most of the time. She dropped out of school. She’s still in Northbridge, got herself an apartment. She’s always sending me funny Youtube videos. A lot of cat stuff. Cats are funny. I think she sends them to everyone. I think I’m the only one who responds back. 

She shaved her head.

I mean, I guess she kinda had to after what the Arachnid did-

did to…

They, ah…

…

She keeps it shaven. She always comes to the reunions and she always keeps it short. It looks nice. Don’t tell her I said that.

I don’t think she watches my videos.

She might. 

Fuck.

She told me she got a cat. Named her Varyyn. They go for walks which is weird, like, you walk dogs, not cats. I guess some people do it, but… I don’t know. It’s weird. Having Varyyn helps Zahra. Caring for something else, having them depend on you. I get that with the fish Terrance got me for my birthday.

He named it Cetus.

Most of us try to avoid conflict. Well, besides the thing with Michelle and the Kappa girls. We just… you know, try to do our own thing. Not Sean though. If anything, the La Huerta event lit a fire in him. He’s not into football anymore. He went to one game, got onto the field and then… walked away. He didn’t see a point. After learning what happened with Jake and the Arachnid and companies like Rourke, Sean went into the political scene. 

…

There are more men out there like Rourke. Sean wants to make sure they never get the chance to do what he did. He wants to make the world a better place. 

Craig, on the other hand, he stuck with football and got drafted! Woot woot. My boy, #68!

 …

I like Craig. He’s… he’s nice when you get to know him. He’s an amazing Offensive Guard. Like, you should’ve seen him on the island. Knocked down heavily armored, military-trained soldiers like they were plastic cups. I guess… I guess with Sean out of the picture, Craig could really shine. He’s not bad, but compared to Sean… it’s like, I mean, the dude’s 6′5″. Who wouldn’t look at-

…

Moving on.

While a fire was lit in Sean, Estela’s fire died down. She stayed enrolled at Hartfeld, even though it was just a means to get to Rourke through Aleister, but she took a lot of time off for herself. She lives with Quinn now. They’re not together together, but they’re really good friends now. Helps out with Quinn’s bakery. I go there a lot and give her a hard time. Quinn laughs at my jokes, Estela just gives me a cold stare. Like she might drag me into the backroom and bake me into a cake.

Oh, I should probably talk about Quinn’s bakery. For Goodness’ Cake. BEST. CUPCAKES. EVER. If you haven’t gone, go. It’s the best. 

It’s Quinn’s pride and joy. Aleister helped her start it up before selling his father’s company. I’ll talk about that next. Quinn’s parents help her out and guess what? They got back together. Quinn was really hoping they would. I’m happy for her. I guess she took a page from Raj. If pies make peace, what do cakes make? I mean, the cake’s definitely not a lie, amiright?

… 

Moving on.

Yeah, Aleister took over his father company. Being the sole heir and all. He helped Quinn get started with her bakery then he sold it, but not before wiping all traces of Rourke’s projects. All the research plans and prototypes. Gone. I don’t see that much of Aleister, but he always attends our reunions. He travels a lot. He says he wants to see more of the world. He certainly has enough money to live comfortably without a job.

Lucky bastard.

Grace reconnected with her mom. They’re doing good. Grace said she’ll be taking over when her mom retired. 

Oh and guess what?

They got married! Like, I didn’t think they would! I didn’t think Aleister would work up the courage, but he did. It was a great wedding. Small, just us and Grace’s parents.  

Jake’s still a pilot, but he’s no longer on the run. That’s good. He got to see his mom again and his sister. I wasn’t there, but Terrance was. You know, for support. He said there wasn’t a lot of talking, but a lot of crying. I can imagine. 

And omg, he cut his hair. I think his mom made him do it. Okay, so, during the wedding, I saw this really cute guy and I’m thinking ‘Who is this guy? I thought Grace and Aleister only invited us?’ So I walk up to him to talk and it was Jake! Like, we all joke and say he looks like Jared Leto. That’s why his nickname is Joker, but he totally looks like Ryan Reynolds except, you know, not as tall. 

Raj cleaned up his act. I mean, not that it needed cleaning up, but…. hey, no drugs! He’s still all about those parties, but… he’s more focused now. He wants to be a chef! You know, his feasts really brought us together on the island. Without him, we would’ve been our own undoing before Rourke or the Vaanti ever got their hands on us. He’s working with this really strict, but really talented chef in Northbridge. I think her name is Mira?

… 

We’re all doing good.

…

Sometimes I catch myself wondering if this is a dream. That this is my brain’s attempt to give me some rest and when I wake up, I’ll be back on the island. Totally bearded again, back into the fight. An endless summer.

I know that’s not true. I’m here. It’s over. I’m picking up the pieces. My life’s mine again. The nightmares are still there, but I know I’ll be alright someday. We’ll all be alright someday.

We have each other and I couldn’t ask for a better group of friends.

This is Deigo and I’ll see you next time on The Diego Show!

#PlayChoices #Endless Summer #Diego Ortiz-Soto #SarcasticFic #ask to tag

[np254]

No, it’s not a click bait. I quit social media and am in rehab.

Let me explain:

What

I deactivated my Instagram account.

I deleted the Facebook app on my phone. I cannot completely deactivate my account, because I am administrating a page (hence the responsibilities). I only access FB from my phone in case of emergencies. Everyday, I check my notifications once or twice from my laptop.

I logged out of Tumblr on my phone and deleted the app. Visits reduced to 2-3 times a week.

The only social-networking app I am still using on a daily basis is Messenger, which is more like a messaging app.

When

From October 13th. Undecided end date.

Why

1. My clean history with social media

I have been socially active all my life and been using my social accounts very consciously for years. Ever since my childhood, my parents have taught me about the importance of moderation when it comes to social media. Even though I have had 2 emails (not one, but two!) for 11 years (and I am 20), my parents have given me guidance on managing these from the very beginning. It was the same with Facebook (which I’ve also been having for about 10 years) – during the first few years, I never went online without parental controls. And for that I was thankful.

Even when I gained full control of my socials, which was about 7 years ago, everything was still going well. Although I have a lot of friends in school and from my social activities, social networks have always been there for its initial purpose – to help me stay in touch with people.

Even when I took charge of my social media accounts, I still used them with caution and consideration. On Facebook, I only connect with people whom I have actually met in real life or whom I have heard about/talked to or with whom I have many mutual friends. My Instagram account has been private from the beginning and I have my own “rules” when accepting new followers. It explains why my social circle is not massive but the interaction rate is remarkable.

At once I could confidently state: “I am a Digital Native, I know my way around social networks”.

2. The addiction

In the beginning it was very subtle. The addiction.

The addiction is young. It started since I went to Germany to study abroad 2 years ago. At the time, I wouldn’t say that it was an addiction. However, it was definitely slight overuse. As I started my “adult life” on my own in a country far away from home, away from any kind of supervision whatsoever, I allowed myself to do whatever I want as long as it’s justifiable.

Somehow I felt the need to update my life online constantly, mainly because: – of the distance. Being so far from each other, I wanted to keep my family informed about my new life – of the time-zone difference. Being online constantly helped me stay informed about family and friends at home. – Germany is beautiful, I had a good life and I wanted to brag about it So I ended up being online a lot. Luckily, I had a group of five girlfriends and we spent a lot of time together cooking, chatting, baking and studying, so I was distracted from my phone and laptop.

After the first year, I moved to Hamburg. Around this time, I started my hobby with analog photography and this blog. I also started my course at the HAW. Here we learned about the importance of our online presence – whether it is necessary and what are the risks. I decided that an online presence is inevitably necessary, since I am a hobby photographer and later on want to work in the media.

I think I did a good job maintaining my online image. I am on every social networks and my profile on each network is carefully though-over and well-drafted. They coexist in harmony with the same username and together they portray different aspects of my personality exactly how I want them to.

It would be nice if I stopped there. But I didn’t.

I craved validation, but my craving was the worst type – I didn’t actually need validation, I just wanted to put myself and my life online, and for that I would feel satisfied enough. The thought that everyone knew how great/not great my life was fed my ego. In my head, I told myself that I am doing a great job sharing with people the often unnoticed moments in life (very noble, I know). Of course, I was ecstatic when someone responded, but that was not the main point.

Now, I will include another factor that played a role. But I also want to disclaim that I do not intend to put all the blame on it. It was only unfortunate that among many other reasons, a long-distance relationship also contributed to the growth of my addiction. Along with my own craving for validation, I had another justified reason to post about every little thing in my life.

From there, everything went downhill. I was online all the time, and I mean the literal  meaning of the phrase. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. The first thing I do every morning was checking my phone for messages from the night, notifications on every social networks, emails, Facebook newsfeed and Instagram feed. This ritual took at least 30 minutes every morning, often an hour. If I didn’t do this, I could not wake up. You can say that my brain delved into new notifications to wake myself up.

Then, during the course of the day, I was online constantly, even when there was nothing more to check. Social networks are programmed to be addictive, to this I agree. Even when I had something to do (e.g. am in a lecture), I would still occasionally pull out my phone, completely unawared, and aimlessly scroll through the feeds. When I had read everything, I would turn to the “Discover” tab, which both Facebook and Instagram have. The vicious cycle went on and on.

Besides from checking the feeds, I also posted content. I trust my taste and my aesthetics, so I invested a lot of time in choosing and editing the photos that I post. A little while ago, I reached the peak of my addiction, where I spent excessive time on content for my Instagram story. I would edit the photos in 1-2 apps then design the layout with beautiful text description in another app. Just to post to a virtual story that will only last for 24 hours. When I was bored, I would write quotes. To have nice hand-writing by smearing your finger on the touch screen is not the most efficient thing to do. I wrote and rewrote until the quotes looked decent and met my aesthetic standards. All that too, served the Instagram story that is only visible for 24 hours.

I agree that there are people who have to do this for the sake of their career. They could be professionals who do this for a living. Considering that I am neither a professional nor  earn any cents from my social accounts, I was wasting so much time for nothing.

A few examples of my “creations” for my Instagram story:

Each of these took about 30 minutes.

The bad thing about the situation was that, I didn’t actually posted a lot on Facebook and Instagram. I only checked the feeds too frequently. Therefore, my addiction went unnoticed for a long time, since nobody, even myself, ever addressed my overuse.

It came to the point where I could not part with my phone or my laptop anymore. I would switch between my phone and laptop. Either one of them was always on, sometimes both. I would even check my phone while my laptop was booting or loading something. From time to time, I found myself in distress because I could never finish the book that I found interesting, or invest time in self-improvement as I did a year ago. Despite my distress, I never succeeded in cutting down my online time to spend time on other things. I just couldn’t.

3. The breakpoint

A month ago, something that happened had shaken me awake and rewired my way of thinking. My apologies for not explaining what this “something” was, for it is a personal matter.

I realised that I would waste my entire future if I didn’t make a change. I felt my mental capabilities deteriorated. I saw that I was not missing out on the virtual world, rather the actual world.

I did not want to live my life anymore, and I was the one who caused it all. 

I have thought about seeking help, but I figured, maybe I could still cure myself, as long as there is a strong self-discipline. With this mindset, I started out on my personal rehab. It is still happening. If it goes wrong, here you can read in black and white, i promise that I will seek professional help.

How’s it been? What have I learned?

It has been difficult, of course.

Like every other addiction, the cravings are unbearable. It’s especially hard when I check my socials in the morning or before I go to bed. If I lose control, I can scroll on forever.

The most noticeable thing are random moments. Sometimes when I find something funny, or an interesting thought passes my mind, I feel a very strong urge to post something onto my Instagram story. Other times, I would open the “Social Networking” app folder on my phone, where I have remembered the positions of every app, and tapped intuitively, only to choose the wrong one (because I deleted some).

From this experience, I learn that the nice moments in life should be enjoyed in person. Even when there is no friend around to share with. I learn to find joy in them. Getting used to not instantaneously share everything online is hard, often times I find myself reaching for my phone, then put it away, then look around to find a familiar face, then look up to the sky and smile to myself. As if there is a sacred secret between me and an unknown Significant Power.

Solitude and happiness may seem like they will never go together, but happiness is actually in its purest form when you can share it with yourself and the universe. The happiness you feel is a whole, and you feel it with your entire heart and attention. Most often, we try to share our happiness, forgetting that it should be felt by us first, before it can be shared with others. Otherwise, the happiness would lose its purpose: to fulfil one’s soul.

Another thing I’ve learned, is that I do not need to prove my emotions.  Honestly, people do not give much attention to what they see online, because the flow of information is endless, so they jump from this to that, quickly forgetting what they have seen. No one has noticed that I stopped using Instagram, even though I had been posting actively. As my account is deactivated, you can’t find me or tag me. From this I learn that life is not a stage and you don’t need an audience. Nobody will judge you if you are not happy, and the fact that you are happy and you show it does not do anything for anyone else, if they don’t truly care about you.

And people who care will go out of their way to make sure that you are fine. Even if you do not post anything on social networks, they will try to reach you. Such a short and simple message like “Hey, how are you doing? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” can light up my day brighter than 50 likes on a pic on Instagram.

Do I feel FOMO?

“Fear of missing out” has become a chronic disease. Funnily, I felt like I have always been having FOMO ever since I started using social media. No matter how often I check my feeds, I would still miss out on something.

To me, it doesn’t make any significance when I stop using social media in comparison to when I still used them in terms of FOMO. It’s not like I have stopped informing myself about the world. Quite the opposite, I read the newspaper regularly to know what is going on in real life.

The only problem that I currently still can’t solve is that I do not know what my friends abroad are doing. I have very good friends from school, with whom I do not talk very often but like to keep up with them via their social media accounts. Now that I am going completely sans Instagram, I don’t have a clue how they are doing, and simply hitting them up via Messenger just to ask if they are fine seems awkward and weird.

So far, this is my experience from one week with massively restricted social media usage.  The struggle and the journey continue…

Deep down I wish that something good will come out of this.

I quit social media

#addiction #digital native #experience #facebook #insight #instagram #modern #np254 #overuse #problem #rehab #rehabilitation #social media #social networking #social networks #tumblr #Writing

[confringo-]

2019 Goals

Am I supposed to be writing right now and instead procrastinating by penning a blog under the guise of “lubing up” my writing chops so I can be ready to write what I need to write today? 

Little Mix voice: Hell Yeah I Am! 

(Dances to Joan of Arc for three times.) 

Anyway, here are my goals for this year and they’re way more than I thought they would be, so I categorized them:

Health Goals

1. Lose 10 inches from my waistline by the end of the year. 

5 inches by June

5 inches by December

I went buckwild with the whole “goals need to be SMART - Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, Time-Bound” thing. I’m not remotely fucking around this year. I’ve deleted my Tinder and Grindr. Literally no Fucking Around. Also, got no time for men. 

This is definitely something I’m gonna struggle with. I’m already not exercising and I’m losing days, but there is still the next day and the next day. Can’t be losing all those inches within a week. That would be unhealthy and I’m not about that. I’m not gonna lose weight just for the sole purpose of being pretty or so I can fit in my fucking clothes. I’m turning 25 this year. I don’t want to grow up regretting all the shitty food I’ve been eating and then paying for it in medical bills. No sir. I will not be a miserable old fuck who can’t walk around or climb stairs. I wanna be a miserable old fuck who CAN. 

I can already feel my hypertension acting up again and I’d rather not freak my mom out about it. I need to lose weight, and that’s not just society talking. 

2. Learn to cool 6 vegan meals (not snacks)

Again, I’m doing this thing where I need to be healthy. Also, I need to do this thing where I learn some actual domestic skills because growing up all comfortable with maids is not helpful anymore. I need to shape up and get some adult points. Can’t be level 5 adult forever. 

This means I need to learn 1 meal per two months. It’s not that fucking hard @ self.

3. Clean room while listening to a new Night Vale episode. 

The one sure way to know how deep I am in my depression is the state of my room. The state of my room also sends me into this self-destructive spiral of hate and lethargy. As it get dirtier, I get dirtier on the inside. Clutter begets clutter. Therefore, I will force myself to clean and declutter bi-monthly (eyyy 20biteen!!!) 

This will not cure me of the Sads but at least a clean room is something less to stress about. Unfuck The Year! 

Writing Goals

I’m dreading this already. 

1. Finish HSHL (His Smile, His Laugh) by June 30th, 11:59PM

Wanna hear something funny? I was meant to finish writing my outline on December 31st. Right now, I’m procrastinating from finishing it. LMAO ROFL. FUck Me. But hey, I made it a goal to finish it within the week and I’m on what I like to call “Act V” of the outline so I just need to focus. I’m not doing that now but I sincerely hope that by finishing this blog I’ll be all “lubed up” for it. 

2. Submit draft to AT LEAST 25 agents starting July 15th. 

Gotta do that break yo. One teacher at my grad school residency talked to us about SMART goals and this was one of them. Submit the draft, sure. But aim for something. 25 agents is a good number. I’ll do more if I have to. We did a project on finding agents too so I can’t say I’m wholly unprepared. 

3. Submit 3 stories to 10 journals/magazines 

Listen. I don’t want to have to play the game but Capitalism Makes Moral Compromisers of Us All. That said, I started a  writing twitter where I will be “networking,” something I’ve been dreading since I started grad school. Nevertheless, it’s a necessary evil. We are social creatures. Until such time I have fuck you money, I’m gonna have to do this. But also, I do genuinely want to support other writers. We’re all humans and I wanna do this thing where I tell writers about how much I love their writing. It will make me feel good that they feel good. Also, that’s good karma. 

But anyway, this is also a good way to stretch my writing muscles. Avoid burnout. Keep things going. Plus, it’s a good way of practicing how to be thrifty with words since most of these things require a Word Count Limit. As you know, and as you can see, I don’t know when to shut up. 

4. Finish “Julian’s Body” by February 28, 11:59PM

Guess who’s still writing Dalton fanfiction in 2019. This person! I’m like a few chapters away to the end. Might as well get it out of the way so that I stop feeling bad about it. 

5. Finish “Forgive My Weakness” by January 31, 11:59PM

Another fanfic to finish. The fanfic I’m procrastinating on Today. I’m almost kinda done. This shouldn’t take another week. I hope. 

6. Read at least one book/full lit mag/journal per month. 

Again, an easy in theory goal. I’m reading Three Dark Crowns right now and I’m loving it but I’m also not reading it so...fuck. However, this is something I should stick to because I just finished reading Autoboyography by Christina Lauren and it gave me all those nice writing feels. Reading fuels writing and it’s easy to forget. 

Work Goals

I’m quitting my current job in April. It’s no longer the right fit for me. I don’t want to get into great detail about these but I just want what’s best for my account before I leave it. 

1. Set up QA team by April 1st, 12:00PM

2. Set up monthly incentive program by April 1st, 12:00PM

3. Set up phone rep incentive by April 1st, 12:00PM

4. Do minimum 4 writing workshops at Spark

This city does not need a Creative Writing teacher so I need to make do with what I have. There’s this cafe that allows people to do drawing/calligraphy workshops. My friend said that I could do writing workshops as well so this is the plan for 2019. I won’t have a stable job, I fear. I hope I get something to push through but if all else fails, I’m gonna fight tooth and nail to get a teaching career going, even if it’s all super amateur. 

Money Goals

1. Get new debit card from BPI by March 17th, 12:00PM

Since I’m quitting my job, I’m also going to be losing my debit card so I need to set a new one up before I do so. Then this means I have to change my Amazon, my PayPal, my Spotify, and my Patreon and that’s gonna be sooooo annoying. 

2. Pay mom back for treadmill by end of year. 

I still owe her a lot of money and if I want to be rid of my guilt, I will have to finish paying her. 

That’s pretty much it. There are of course some resolutions I still have like talking to my friends more and helping my sister out with her current situation with our mom. (Not fun, super dumb, why she too christian for her own good.) But I didn’t put them in as goals because I haven’t figured out how to word them in such a way. Resolutions are tough to follow through because of the wording. Still, I want to improve my personal life but that’s going to be up to me. These are the most important goals I want to hit and I’m gonna get through them, sweat and tears and blood and all.

I’m afraid. 

I’m unprepared. 

I’m procrastinating. 

But you know what? I’m capable. 

#Joey's diary #Goals

[resbang-bookclub]

AMA Transcript: Awoken

This past week, @professor-maka​ and @sahdah​ stopped in to chat about their work on their 2016 Resbang, Awoken! Here’s some of what went down:

Q: How did your fic change/evolve over time? Any deleted scenes/headcanons you couldn't fit into the fic?

ProMa: Sort of? In that I wasn't exactly sure how far I wanted to take the plot at first, and at one point considered a Medusa appearance but decided I liked flipping the villain expectation too much to fuss with it.

Q: How the frick did you write the songs and stuff?? It was so good and hilarious.

ProMa: Ahhhh I can't music which is why the songs are either poems (only the first, and it's intentionally bad) or I took actual songs and just--modified lyrics in the same meter.

Q: You wrote your own lyrics tho?

ProMa: I did. I carefully plotted to the meter of the original. Or in the case of Ox's first song, just kept a really trite meter.

Q: Gotta ask the obvious question: What made you want to do an Enchanted AU!!

ProMa: It's a really fun movie, and I just felt I could do something fun with it. Though I'll admit there's a heavy Enchanted Forest Chronicles in there, too.

Q: What was the hardest scene to write?

ProMa: Hardest to write was hmmmm... Maka waking up the second time. I got stuck in that section forever.

Q: And which scene did you write first?? Loved the song summons btw. It made me laugh so hard.

ProMa: I wrote it pretty much in order except in a few places where I wrote the song before the scene, so the taxi scene came first. The song summons was so fun to write. I wanted to take that scene from Enchanted and completely flip it on its head.

Q: Proma, I love the running gag with the disembodied music, was that from the AU's or your own detail?

ProMa: Disembodied music was just drawing from the brand of humor in Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Patrick Dempsey's reactions in Enchanted, and the reality of musicals. So basically my take on it, lol.

Q: How early in the process did you figure out that Ox was gonna be the prince? Were you always sure it would be him or did you have to narrow it down?

ProMa: Ox was my prince pretty much from the get go. He just fit what I wanted to do. I was going for the more noble version of Hans from Frozen.

Q: Was there anything weird that you didn't expect to make it into the final cut?

ProMa: The potty humor I definitely wasn't sure I would keep. But I am 14 at heart and kept it.

Q: Alternately, anything you wanted to keep but had to cut?

ProMa: I kind of wanted a Black Star appearance but time and plot arc did not allow. Also Wes was not in the original plan but he happened anyway.

Q: Tell us about the art collab! How did it work for you?

ProMa: They were really enthusiastic and supportive and started throwing ideas out from the get go! 

sahdah: Read voraciously, threw my ideas at Proma. 

ProMa: The poster image sahdah did was so great she worked on it forever! sahdah: Proma was super chill and awesome about things, I'd ask for direction and she gave like dress ideas. It was so much fun! 

ProMa: And rogha's painting was lovely.

Q: What was the hardest thing about that poster image?

sahdah: Ahhh the coloring. I did pen drawing and scanned but I'd just gotten a tablet for digital so working the layers was interesting. I had lots of support from Proma and Aer!

Q: How many drafts did you do before you decided on a final image for the art?

sahdah: Um, it started off with just Maka, and then Ox got added. And then I think Kim was next - this is all on the same page - and I knew Soul in a beanie had to be there. So it just grew. 

ProMa: It grew in the most glorious way possible. Sahdah kept sending me updates and I just [said] YES YES GOOD YES.

Q: I am jealous of how well-behaved this fic was for not having any deleted scenes.

ProMa: AHAHA I'm a weird writer. I delete sometimes, but not often.

Q: SEQUEL?

ProMa: Noooooooo no no no no no. Epilogue is my limit.

Q: What was your favorite scene to write?

ProMa: Either the vermin scene or Maka laying the smackdown on Ox. Both were fun. Maka as badass is always my jam.

Q: Is this a genre you'd want to do again?

ProMa: It was fun, I'd definitely do it again!

Q: Please tell me what inspired the "friendly neighbourhood broctologist" line because I literally laughed at it for 30 straight seconds.

ProMa: B* works in mysterious ways. He always gets my best lines. What inspired it? B* being B*.

[discussion of the rats/roaches scene]

ProMa: That scene is one of the more direct lifts from the film. It's really nasty. Vermin squick me so hard, but vermin summoning is one of the most hilarious things in the film. I HAD to. 

sahdah: Giriko running in fear when he next sees them, lol. 

ProMa: Poor Giriko, he only wanted some loot.

[discussion of how numerous people have not seen Enchanted]

ProMa: It's cute and funny and I did something completely different with the premise because Maka is no Gisselle.

Q: Real question time: Why George Michael?

ProMa: Omg. It was my server name because it was a play on the kiss thing and then I just--had to. Because Wham is awesome and cheesy and it fit.

Q: I'm kinda mad with how it was not awkward or cheesy. How do you put Wham in a story and make it charming?

sahdah: Promagic. 

ProMa: I have no idea. I love Wham, they were my first album. Call it a labor of pure love.

Q: Did you listen/watch anything (besides the obvious) for inspiration?

ProMa: I had a playlist I've been meaning to post: http://8tracks.com/professor-maka/awoken. I'll have to make it not unlisted later lol.

Q: Is it possible for Mr. Proma to do a cover the fic songs?

ProMa: It'd be hilarious but he'd side eye me hard. Very not his genre. Well, maybe the Foo Fighters. :') I would laugh so hard to hear them performed though. Maybe someday someone will perform one and make my life. 

sahdah: Soul singing Pearl Jam in the shower <3 

ProMa: Mr.Proma sent me that song when we were dating, it was a nod to self. 

sahdah: Awwwh, such a good husbando! 

ProMa: Such good husbando. Well, boyfriendu then.

Q: If you had to do it over, would there be anything you'd change?

ProMa: Hmmmmm man I just reread it. I wish I'd edited another round, because I missed some dumb reppy shit and just dumb shit. Also, the ending could be drawn out a bit. So I would do that if I had it to do again. But I was in serious time crunch mode.

Q: I am so impressed with how much fic you can crank out, Proma.

sahdah: Proma cranked out the last bit of the fic in... what was it, like 2 days? 

ProMa: Yeah, the last third was very fast. 

sahdah: I'm like WAIT!!! SO MUCH I NEED TO ART. 

ProMa: Sahdah did her second two pieces in like two days so MASS APPLAUSE. 

sahdah: /head scratch like there was so much good content! 

ProMa: And those pieces are great too.

Q: How does one do that, pull out quality in such a short time?

sahdah: Copious amounts of caffeine and manic cackling with Resbang partners. <3 

ProMa: I write fast under pressure. It's a skill I picked up in school that weirdly translates into creative things. Thank you, undergrad all nighters.

Q: Proma, [in the] epilogue, how does Ox fare with Kim?

ProMa: Omg Ox does not fare with Kim. She is all about dat Jackie. But I mean, he has his kingdom. Even if Spirit gives him constant shit for the rest of his days.

Q: How does Spirit react to maka moving?

ProMa: Spirit is so dejected. I haven't worked it out, but he would definitely seek Maka out. Might even just hand the kingdom to Ox eventually, and go [to the] whole other world. He will visit, that's not even arguable. That omake I will heavily consider. 

Q: Proma, one thing that I was interested to see and that I think I'm glad about is that you didn't do the whole Aesop where Maka has to go back and learn how to break the curse, find happiness in her own world. While I can appreciate that message and I think it has its place, I also think that if people could really do that... there are probably people who would find a place and feel better somewhere other than their "home world." I mean, you could translate the "world" metaphor to people choosing to leave a toxic family of origin, which would be a good thing.

ProMa: Oh yeah, I was never going to go there. This was about Maka shaping her own life on her terms. I was not going for archetypes at alllll. Blair was always my choice for the fairy godmother role. It's so canon anyway. You can do some good things with that trope, it just wasn't the goal. Maka staying in her new life definitely came from the source -- even if a lot of the source is altered beyond recognition. 

sahdah: I also love Maka working to improve herself on her terms. Like the details with the soufflé. 

ProMa: I definitely borrowed some flavor from Wrede.

[more discussion of the vermin scene]

ProMa: That's one of the biggest actual pulls from the movie though -- I flipped it completely. Giselle summons vermin to clean the messy house. Yeah, that is not Maka. Maka just wants her crap back and she's not into the singing thing. 

sahdah: Giriko! The real vermin, lol.

Q: Maka asking animals via Disney princess song to wreck Giriko's shit was one of my favorite things. 

ProMa: It's Maka, she's not gonna sing to clean Soul's house, he can get off his own ass! 

sahdah: Let's be real, he probably has a cleaning service, because of Mother. 

ProMa: His house is spotless, there are maids. (Why a high powered lawyer in Enchanted couldn't hire a maid is beyond me.) 

sahdah: Mc-Procrastinator, not Dreamy. 

ProMa: Mc-raises kid in nasty house. I actually have a soft spot for pet rats, we had them in 3rd grade but an actual in my house rat would make me into a quivering pile of NOPE.

Q: Is it Mc-over? [ implied :( ]

[insert giant chorus of thanks] 

ProMa: You guys asked great questions thank you! It was so much fun, I'm glad others thought so too! 

sahdah: It was my pleasure, I love musicals! 

ProMa: And thanks to my betas here too. Yulie and Sand saved my liiiife.

#AMA transcripts #rbbc #resbang

[ivankarelin]

some deleted scenes/first drafts of scenes from my young justice college au fic

It's 10:16 AM on Wednesday. Artemis is trying desperately to not let her eyes sink shut after her all-nighter, and she shakes her head fiercely. It is 16 minutes after her first class of the day started and in strolls Wally, 16 minutes late. He sits next to her for God knows what reason and leans over.

“What're we supposed to be doing,” he whispers, shoving his backpack up onto the desk.

“Pair up with the person sitting next to you!” Their professor announces, and Artemis bolts upright in her seat. She turns her head towards him, towards the dumbass who just sat himself down next to her, and wishes she had her crossbow so she could kill either herself or him (she's not sure which one yet). “For the rest of the class, you will come up with a sample project proposal and present it.”

She raises her hand and her professor looks dead at her.

“No solo projects.”

She blinks and nods and lowers her hand slowly, dreading even looking over at Wally. When she does, he has a smirk on his face.

“Guess you're stuck with the Wall-man.”

“You are so not the boss of me,” Wally says, dragging out the “so” childishly.

“Just do it!” Artemis fires back, exasperated.

They drive mostly in silence save for the quiet music filtering through the radio. She looks out over the road, and it looks like the landscape and the sky have switched places: the sky is a dead black expanse, while on the horizon lays a blanket of stars, glittering lights of the people far from her. From them. He drives them up a hill and when they reach the top, the whole city is lit up below them.

“So,” they both start at the same time after sitting in silence for a few minutes. They look at each other.

“Sorry, you go first,” she says.

“No, you,” Wally says, leaning back in his seat.

“Um... okay.” She looks at him briefly, only really able to make out the outline of his nose and mouth in the dim light around them. “So... why did you bring me here?”

“I found this place when I was out for a run one day,” he starts, carefully. His voice is soft and for some reason, Artemis is surprised. “I thought it was cool, I guess. A good place to think. Um... you seem really stressed out a lot and I thought... that it could be relaxing?”

“Kind of far, isn't it?”

“Uh. I run fast.”

She rolls her eyes. Yeah, okay, buddy. Artemis has mostly dropped her suspicions that Wally has superpowers but sometimes he says shit like that and they flare up again. She makes a soft humming noise.

“Honestly,” she says, leaning forward and resting her arms across the dashboard and laying her head down, “I'm exhausted.”

Something clicks in her mind.

“Are you trying to hook up with me right now?” She asks, vaguely incredulous. Secluded spot, nighttime, “getting into the backseat.” She slams a hand into the interior light button and yellow light floods over them, and Wally looks like a deer in the headlights.

“I-- no! I mean, uh--” he scrambles for something to say, looking at every place that isn't her face. “Why would I ever want to do that with you anyway?”

Irritation flashes through her.

He stares out over the dashboard, palms of his outstretched hands running along the top of the steering wheel. “What do you do when you want to tell someone something, but aren't sure how they're  going to react?”

“Are you seriously asking me a morality question right now?”

“Yes. Shut up. It's hypothetical!”

“This isn't like, a date, or something, right?” She asks.

“No!” Wally shoots back, embarrassed. “Why would I ever want to go on a date with you?” He waits a beat. “Unless you wanted to.” He adds, hurriedly, and it leaves Artemis reeling.

“Excuse me?” Is what comes out of her mouth, gaping at him in disbelief.

“I mean, I just thought-- um, I thought?” He says, swallowing thickly. He blinks his gaze down to the floor before shifting it back to the face. “It was just a joke. Forget about it, I was just messing with you.”

Artemis's eyes flutter open, and she groans, wanting to reach for her throbbing head but finds herself unable to, as her arms are tied to her sides, and her ankles are tied together and wait, there's some firm warmth across her back and she realizes that she's tied up to someone, and not just anyone but Kid Flash, and she groans again.

Why is her whole life such a colossal joke all the time? Not only did she almost get kissed by Wally two nights ago, and not only does Kid Flash now know her identity, she has to be tied up with him, of all people. Why couldn't it be Zatanna? She could just magic their way out of it and then they'd be on their merry way – but no, it had to be him, who can't even vibrate his molecules to escape like the Flash can (she's seen him try it – he gets a bloody nose, which is sort of funny, but extremely unhelpful right now). She blows out a sharp breath through her mouth and wiggles around a little, trying to loosen the bonds even a small amount. Kid Flash's weight is bearing down on her and god, why is he so heavy even though he's totally a skinny twig? Damn dense runner's muscles, she guesses, and she huffs.

“Wake up,” she mutters, over and over, raising her voice lightly in volume with each pass. She hits the back of her head softly against his, hoping that will jostle him enough to make him wake up. She tries to recount what happened, piecing together what little she can remember: Cheshire was there, and so was Sportsmaster, and she wanted so desperately to get out of there before they blew everything out of the water that when he called her “baby girl” she just sent absolutely berserk. Kid Flash had to run in and get between them and Sportsmaster smashed him with one of his hammers and he dropped to the floor. She was in shock, and Cheshire hit her before she could even think about releasing the trigger on her crossbow, and she was blacked out on the floor too.

And now she is here. With Kid Flash, who, less than a week ago, found out her secret identity. He's not stupid. He can figure it out, and probably already has – Sportsmaster's real name is well known, and how common of a last name is Crock anyway?

After about five minutes of pleading with the universe to get Kid Flash to wake up, at which point she's about ready to give up, she hears a soft moan slip from his mouth.

“Kid,” she says, a little louder. “Are you awake?”

“Ugh, obviously,” he says, voice still woozy and creaking. “I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

“Not a bus,” she says, sourly, “Sportsmaster.”

“Basically the same thing,” he mutters, groaning as he straightens up, or at least tries to.

“Can you... I don't know, run in a circle or something until you

“No dice,” Wally says. “I'm running on fumes right now. I don't know how long we were out but it must've been a long time. My cupboards are all cleaned out.” 

“I think I was wrong about you but,” Artemis pauses here, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, “I think you were right about me. The whole time.” She sucks in a breath, pushing out her words before she can stop herself. “I... I'm not Green Arrow's niece.” With that, something inside her snaps, and everything floods out before she can stop it. “I barely know him, because-- because my mom was Huntress, an ex-con, and my dad's Sportsmaster, and my sister's Cheshire, and I don't come from some kind of superhero pedigree like you do, because you're actually the Flash's nephew and meanwhile Nightwing has the whole family and so does Zatanna and I didn't think I was ever good enough and. And. When I found out who you were, who you actually were, I sort of flipped because we're always fighting and then we weren't and I just didn't know what was going on and...” She's out of breath and doesn't know what else to say even though her mind is swimming with thoughts and she's not even sure if any of what she just said made sense. “I'm a coward. And I'm insecure.” She echoes his words. “And I'm sorry.”

#these ones are really messy #i literally stop in the middle of sentences sometimes #writing #young justice #fanfic #scrapped

[jessgartner]

2018 Life Olympics

Let's get one thing straight: 2018 was not a year. 2018 was actually a decade in annum's disguise. Things happened in January or February 2018 that I would have blindly guessed had occurred at least three years ago. The Winter Olympics, for example. How do you measure a year? In heartburn, in wrinkles, in gray hairs, in stress disorders.

Have you ever had a moment when you come face-to-face with your own specific brand of crazy? (I know the answer is yes because you're reading this and all of my friends and casual observers are a little bit crazy. It takes one to know one). Anywho, the other day I sat down to do my annual reconciliation of goals that I set this time last year... all 32 of them. 32 goals. What the what? What sort of lunatic sets 32 annual goals? Even several days later, I can't even type this without laughing at myself. Some of these goals are things like "Raise X million dollars" - a months-long affair involving dozens or hundreds of tasks. 1/32! I tallied it up and I somehow managed to hit 20 of these crazy goals, in a year that I had written off as "terrible," "horrible," "no good," and "very bad."

Coincidentally, my word for 2019 is "boundaries" - may I set them, may I respect them.

2018 Life Olympics Recap

Career - Bronze

By objective measures, Allovue had a pretty good year. We are now supporting over $10 billion in school budgets for about one million students - milestones of which I'm very proud. We added terrific people to our team, we made huge improvements to the product, we hosted an awesome Summit, and we brought on exciting new partners.

Personally, I just didn't feel like it was my best year. This is partly because I set insane expectations for myself and then felt disappointed when I couldn't match them. My attention was divided across several core functions, which made me feel generally frazzled and unfocused for large swaths of the year. When I get stressed, my instinct is to double-down and work harder, which catalyzes a vicious spiral of overwork/exhaustion.

At least twice this year, I dismissed serious health issues as "probably just from stress" and I got sick more than I have in the past several years combined. Next year, I'm putting boundaries in place to help me focus on the goals that really matter to me and to do so with a clear head and a healthy body.

Home - Did not place

Ooph. The gods of hearth and home were not on my side this year. I had an attempted break-in at my rental house that resulted in someone smashing through my backyard fence Hulk-style. My second-floor ceiling caved-in from water damage. Tenants made a mess of the house, resulting in three months of deep-cleaning and painting (and income-loss). My basement flooded. I discovered (because I smelled gas one night) that the gas line in my house was too small (who even knew that was a thing?) and had to be entirely ripped out and replaced. My taxes increased 300 percent. And to top off the year, a new roof. Throughout all of this, I really tried to exercise gratitude for having house(s) in which things break, but it still sucks to write those checks. I'm praying that all will be quiet on the home-front next year. Please.

::Burns sage::

Health - Bronze

While I felt sick and run-down quite a bit this year, I still did some healthy things that I'm proud of. Early in the year, I made the decision to give up my car when the lease was up. I have always characterized my driving as "all of the adrenaline but none of the skill of Batman" and I think it's maybe safer for everyone if I sit in the passenger seat of cars. I anticipated that I would spend about as much money on transportation with increased rideshare spending, but thought the trade-off of stress and time spent driving would be a net good. I was wrong:

In 2017, I spent $5,067 on transportation. In 2018, I increased my spending on ride-share 1000% but it still didn't come close to the total cost of having a car. In 2018, I spent $2,791, which includes the remaining $550 balance on my car payments. If I take that out and factor in post-car ride-share spending, I'm still saving 50% or more on transportation costs. This is wild. One cost not shown here, since it's a one-time expense, is my new bike. I could buy and outfit a brand new bike every year and still only hit about 75% of my spending level with a car. I'm extremely pleased with this decision.

I also joined a new gym and hired a personal trainer this year. These costs probably offset what I saved in transportation, but I feel good about investing in my health. I exercised more regularly this year than ever before, even if it wasn't quite at the level of frequency I was aiming for, and I built a lot of muscle with weight training.

My biggest health fails this year were 1) eating like crap during busy travel seasons and 2) generally eating way too much sugar. I'm increasingly seeing studies about the long-term health consequences of processed foods and sugar. I don't do well with total elimination diets, but I want to dramatically reduce my intake of sugar, refined carbs, and processed foods, as well as managing my diet better when I'm on the road.

Soul - Silver

Shockingly, this was my best category this year. I hit the most goals in this LO category, which included time for writing, singing, traveling, theatre/concert-going, and other activities that make my soul happy. I saw some terrific performances this year, including Audra McDonald and Cynthia Erivo at BSO, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and A Wonder in My Soul at CenterStage, Waitress at Hippodrome, Ingrid Michaelson at the Beacon, Spring Awakening at StillPointe, Remember Jones at Soundstage, Wye Oak at Ottobar, and Once on This Island on Broadway. I didn't write quite as much as I had hoped (ya'll, I thought I was going to draft two books this year. My concept of time is WILD.) But I still had op-eds published in The Baltimore Sun and Forbes, as well as a few pieces in Medium and on my own blog. I also sang a lot of songs that I loved this year and played the piano more than I have in years. More of all this. I fell short of my 36-book reading goal, but still clocked in a respectable 32 - my second-best reading year since I started tracking in 2012. For the past several years, I've been making a conscious effort to diversify the authors I'm reading. This year, 53% of books I read were authored by people of color and 60% were authored by women. Only 15% were authored by men of color, so that's an area for improvement next year.

Favorite novel(s): Exit West by Mohsin Hamid, Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie

Favorite poetry: Helium by Rudy Francisco, Felicity by Mary Oliver

Favorite business/strategy: The Power of Moments by Chip and Dan Heath; Thinking in Bets by Annie Duke

Favorite memoir/essays: we are never meeting in real life. by Samantha Irby; We're Going to Need More Wine by Gabrielle Union

Relationships - Bronze

I had a fun time engaging with friends and family in new ways this year. I hosted a wine-tasting night and piano concert at my house. I went on trips and to festivals with friends. I also made peace with letting go of some relationships. I spent time with my family and celebrated 21 years of our Boxing Day tradition with my Dad.

I'm taking a hiatus from dating through 2019; at least, a sabbatical from trying. The various apps and profiles have been deleted; my swiping finger is retired. I've been at this game for over a decade with very little success and there's absolutely nothing else in my life that I would invest this much time in for so little joy or purpose. A big part of my goal for 2018 was to retire old narratives that no longer suit me and I decided around November that this story of infinite first dates is just not working for me. For a while, it was fun, then funny. At some point, though, it turned into an exercise in drudgery. I cannot continue to invest this much time and emotional labor and hope into an activity that continuously drains and disappoints me. There is too much else far more worthy of my time and energy: myself, Allovue, my family, my friends - the true loves of my life.

Listen. I see you grinning over there, thinking, "Oh, this is it. Now that she has given up, love is just going to drop right into her lap." I think you've been watching too many Hallmark Holiday movies; this is not The Christmas Crush. This is the real world where men flake and cheat and ghost and zombie and ghost again and I'm all the way over it. Let me be. I can live happily ever after anyway.

Andddd that's a wrap on 2018. I can't say I'm sorry to see it go. I'm closing out the year in Mexico, binge-reading novels, listening to the ocean, doing yoga, eating chilaquiles, and setting a reasonable number of goals that (mostly) adhere to the confines of the space-time continuum. See you on the other side.

#lifeolympics

[ginkgoginkgoginkgo-blog]

Literacy Narrative Second Draft

Estella Ma UWP 001 Literacy Narrative Second draft Apr. 22nd, 2018

Cover Memo

In this draft, I changed the organization of my essay.  As my peers suggested during the review, I added the process of the argument between my mom and I and many descriptions.  Also, I deleted the part that I turned to my teacher for help and what my mom thought as advantages of reading poetries and biographies because they are unnecessary and a little digress.  In this draft, I believe my strength is in my detail description of the event and my feelings, and the shortcoming that needs more effort and suggestion is the organization of the dialogue and what happened after since I do not remember much detail of them.  Also, there may be many grammar and word choice mistakes that I need help with.

My mom loves me. However, like many other Chinese parents, she believes that it is her responsibility to ensure my success and happiness, and I, as her child, must listen to and follow her commands.  

When I entered elementary school at the age of 6, she bought me a huge box of books which she thought as “proper” for me to read during elementary school.  I was extremely excited to receive such a big box of gifts.  I opened it at once -- a couple of biographies of some celebrity I did not know about, some history books, classical Chinese poetries and analysis, and more biographies.  My smile gradually faded away as I found out that all of them were too abstract for me and I could not recognize many of the characters.   I looked at my mom confusedly.  “They may be a little too hard for you for now,” she said, with a smile as if she had seen me receiving good marks and ranking top at school, “but if you push yourself a little harder, you would learn not only more characters but also useful knowledge.”  

My nightmare began since then.   Every day, I read 10 pages of a book, marking and rewriting all the new characters ten times on paper, and completing a quiz given by my mom in the evening.  I hated reading.  I hated it more day by day, but I did not dare to say no to my mom because, in my mind, her authority was unquestionable.  Every time I tried to argue with her or refused to follow her commands, she got angry, and I received severe punishments.  

I thought I would do as she required forever, but an event happened one year later changed me.  One day, I found my best friend Ricky bringing a book and reading it secretly.  Unlike my books, that one had a fancy cover, and Ricky looks enjoying it a lot.  I stared at it for a while and decided no more torture for myself.  I had not finished my 20-page task as a second-grader yet.  However, Ricky noticed my glance and put it on my desk. “Give it back tomorrow,” she said.  

Harry Potter and Philosopher's Stone.

I had never read a book like this, interesting, adventurous, and astonishing.  Wherever Harry goes, I am there, seeing what he sees, feeling what he feels, and struggling with his struggles.  When Harry sneaks out of dorm room, crosses through the castle, and stands in front of the Mirror of Erised to look at his birth parents, my heart was softened and soaked in pain. When Ron scarifies himself by being knocked unconscious by the giant “Queen” on the huge enchanted chessboard so Harry and Hermione can move on, I was deeply touched by this Wesley boy’s bravery and burst into tears. Although there were still new Chinese characters showing up, I did not bother to stop to mark them and look them up.  Instead, I hardly noticed them.  I spent my whole afternoon reading the book and finished it before my mom came home.  Ten minutes after finishing the last line, I was still sitting on my chair in a daze. I sighed.  In the last few hours, I have read hundreds of pages, which equivalents to the reading task for two or three weeks, and I enjoyed it, with my whole heart.  Reading doesn’t have to be a torture. 

I knew my mom does not like fiction novels.  She is afraid that they would fill my brain with strange and unrealistic thoughts; even worse, they cannot provide me with the knowledge that teaches me how to view the world properly and successfully.  Therefore, she made me read 300 Tang Poems, the biography of Charles Darwin, and a great variety of history books, which she believed would facilitate my internal development.  And I knew she hates me questioning her.  However, it was impossible to abandon and forget the fascinating world I just encountered, I wanted to, and I had to talk to her. 

So, I cleaned the dining room and kitchen and begged for my dad’s support. 

 When my mom came home, she was very pleased with the glowing kitchen and gave me a kiss.  Then we cooked and had dinner.  I was so nervous that I barely ate anything.  Fear made my hands wet and cold. 

“Mom,” I forced the words out of my mouth.

“What? Darling,” her smiles encouraged me. 

“I read a book today, Harry Potter. I borrowed it from Ricky.  It is a wonderful book,” I said, without pause.

Her face became strict, “have you finished your reading task yet?”

“No…”

“Then why are you still sitting here?”

“Mom!” my tears dropped, “I never enjoyed reading, never!  Although I know I could learn a lot from the books you bought me, it was suffering for me.  I hated them more day by day, but this book is different!  I never thought reading could be so enjoyable.  People are alive in this book. They have emotions that resonate with me.  Please, I want to read books like this.”

Silence.

“Yidan is right,” my dad supported, “she’s just a child after all. We want her to be outstanding, but we also want her to be happy.  Fiction novels are not deadly; I was a big fan myself! Also, it will foster her creativity and teach her how to get along with people, and look, she is self-motivated now.”

Eventually, after a long talk, my mom accepted. Although I must let her know which books I was reading and still needed to take the quiz every day, I was extremely excited and grateful. 

After that night, I became a bookworm and joined the school’s reading club.  I make a long book list every year and finish all of them, without my mom’s supervision.  Also, because of the huge number of books I had read, I learned much more characters than my peers; by the end of third grade, I could hardly find any new character to continue the quiz.  Another surprise was, after that talk, my mom became more open with me.  Although she still seemed to be a little unpleasant when I opposed her opinion, she encouraged me to explain my thoughts and give my reasons.  As a family, we started to understand each other better.  

Reading became an irreplaceable part of me, and I read a great variety of books now —novels, sciences, biographies, dramas, poetries, etc.  By gradually accumulating intellect and perception, I finally can appreciate the “abstract” books as my mom does, and the process was not painful, yet joyful.  From my experience of reading, I learned two vital things.  First, follow your interest and don’t push too hard.  Learning to run before knowing how to walk is not beneficial.  To learn from something, to take full advantage from it, you ought to love it first.  Second, be brave and steadfast to voice your thoughts and live your life.  Even parents who love us deeply may make the wrong decision, so we need to be responsible for ourselves. 

As my mom worried, some unrealistic thoughts did sneak into my head.  At the eve of my eleventh birthday, I sat at the window the whole night, waiting for a letter delivered by an owl from Hogwarts.  It did not come, apparently.  Although it might seem naive and funny now, I am not ashamed of that waiting.  Everyone grows up someday, sooner or later, which makes those strange and unrealistic beliefs we held before precious and sweet.  So, take the time, and allow ourselves to grow up slowly.

[jawllines]

oKAY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO PURSUE THIS FIC OKAY

Harry fucked up.

Now was it a tremendous fuck up? No, nothing life altering and terrible would come from it other than hard hitting embarrassment and shame if anyone were to find out he were lying. It was something he could probably weasel his way out of too, since he'd perfected the art of weaseling his way out of things in the past few weeks, but the fucked part is, is that he can't truly weasel the way out of his weasel, if that makes sense. Harry's dug himself into a pit that he's stuck in either way he goes about it -- damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

See, Harry has been going through a period of time this year where he just liked being alone. Just liked staying at his flat and chilling out, after an outrageous Sophomore year in UNI where he had just exhausted himself of partying and balancing his academics on top of that. It seemed like a good idea to just cool down for a while this summer -- to just take a breather, recollect himself and his thoughts, maybe pick up knitting, or finally finish that Bukowski book he'd started midwinter and set down on his nightstand to not be touched since.

Though he had a group of friends who really didn't take that as an excuse to quit partying. It was their vacation after all, they're supposed to be living it up and having a blast while they can -- Harry included -- so if he wanted to get out of something he needed an excuse. A good excuse too, "I'm tired" didn't cut it with them.

So Harry had fabricated a girlfriend. And he knows, god he knows it's dumb, and childish, and he shouldn't be lying about something like this but it was the easiest way out! Ducking out of plans with the ol' "Ah m'sorry Mate, the missus' wan's to visit this Tapas restaurant," or "I would but m'staying in for a cuddle and as much as I love you lot, m'getting head tonight," always worked out smoothest. They never asked much about her, or at least Harry didn't really give them a chance to before he was off the phone. Sure he'd made up bits and pieces here and there that would make it seem like he really won it with this one and had them (especially Niall) thinking he's got the  perfect girlfriend. One who he rarely argues with (unless its playful), is just a freak in the bedroom, likes to pig out with him, smart as hell, gives great back massages, is funny as all get out, and smells sweet too.

Which was good for a while -- it was a safe, clean fib that he was getting away with. Or at least it had been, until he's put in a group chat with the lot of them talking about a cabin they've rented out an hour or two away for a small summer getaway. He gives it his best, he does, tries to wiggle out of it, but they beg and they plead with him.

We haven't seen you in sooooo long

right it's been like a decade !

cuz he's so whipped for his gf he's forgotten about us :(

just bring her too then, ffs, we haven't met her yet, this would be the perfect time to

Yes!! Bring the girl you've been gushing about, been wanting to meet her

u dont even have to pay for the cabin it's all squared away, it'll be so much fun H, u gotta

How was he going to say no to all of that? How could he say no and then explain that he's been lying this whole time, that there is no girl, and he's just been avoiding them all because he's tired? That'd sure start a ton of shit he doesn't want to much deal with.

So he responds without thinking it through to the full extent. Says yes, that they will go, and asks for all the details and times and whatnot, what he should bring and what he shouldn't. They're all stoked, so happy to see him and he can't say that it doesn't feel good that he's wanted -- it's a nice feeling it is, but he's got one aching problem that the love of friends just won't fix.

Harry's got to find a girlfriend that suits everything he's ever said to them in the next four days, or he's going to make a fool out of himself.

                                                                         .                        .                        .

Finding a fake girlfriend was a lot harder than he thought, more so since he'd told the boys that they wouldn't know her. So this requires a lot of digging, a lot of asking one night stands what they're doing in the upcoming week, a lot of asking old friends from Holmes Chapel to fly out so he didn't look like an idiot,  lot of panicked late night drafting, deleting, and redrafting a Craigslist ad. He was willing to offer money too, just for the sake of it and as the final selling point. He was starting to wish he hadn't said much about this fake girlfriend at all, so a fake boyfriend could've been a possibility too, but he hadn't thought that far into the lie.

Harry was just in the midst of realizing how much of a sad, dramatic Disney movie his life was turning into when he gets an alert on his phone. It makes him jump, it vibrating just towards the edge of the counter so he slaps his hand down atop of it to stop it from slipping off the granite. His heart is drumming from the adrenaline of saving his phone when he sees who it's from.

Heyyyy, I was wonderin' if I could have my pen back? I know its been a minute and I said you could have it but turns out that was my fav pen not the copy of my fav pen. I've got your cute flower sticky post-its to return to you too, so we could do a trade off.

Y/N was a girl who sat besides him during his Bio lectures this past semester. Really, she was the only thing that got him through it because he zoned out way too much and she always let him borrow her notes, partnered up with him when they had labs or projects, and always read through the final draft of some of the essays they had to put it (not just for Bio, but for some of his English courses as well). They'd bonded some, but she was one of those friends that really just stayed within the realms of school -- never ventured out of that.

During their exam they had to write a constructive response in pen and Harry hadn't brought one so Y/N let him use hers and in return he gave her his flower sticky notes so they would remember to give each thing back to each other. Neither did, however, and Harry had pretty much forgotten he had it until he came across it the other day. He'd been meaning to text her about it, but he'd left it on his coffee table and sort of just forgot about it again.

Now that Harry thinks about it, he wishes he would've kept in better contact with her. Y/N was a good laugh and nice to chat with -- made the two hour long labs seem like a breeze and the professor just adored her so they always got a damn nice grade. She was pretty amazing too, way fucking smart, and smells really nice -- like vanilla -- and sometimes she would bring in a big homemade bag of these fancy seasoned pretzel sticks that she let him dig into.

Well, now that he really thinks about it, she sounds exactly like the girlfriend he told the others about.

And well, fuck, it was a long shot, but Y/N might just be his best fucking chance at getting out of this scrape free. Y/N's pretty chill with a lot of things, goes with the flow, and is laid back when the time calls for it. Has their old Bio professor thing she was an absolute angel that the heavens bestowed onto this earth, so she was a pretty good actor as well.

He can't imagine this working out in his favor but he isn't just not going to ask. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and he's willing to give her any amount she wants for a week and a half of her time.

So he messages her back for a place and a time and when she offers the coffee shop a few blocks from his house he agrees, takes one more spoonful of the fruity pebbles he'd been cramming down his throat before closing his laptop and setting his phone down atop of it.  The goal right now is hopping in the shower and making himself smell all nice, fresh, and like a "Tropical Thunderstorm" that will hopefully aide in persuading her. All he could hope for right now is for her to agree easily -- hell, he'd even buy her coffee and one of those cute little strawberry hard shell cakes to buy her out.

Blowing a raspberry at the air, he stretches out his limbs towards the sky and the ground, before rolling his arms back. It looks like he's gearing up for a fight but he's just readying himself. This is quest he has to conquer or he's just absolutely, positively fucked.

                                                                                .                       .                      .

"Okay."

What? 

"What?"

Harry had met up with Y/N, bought her a coffee as planned and got them a booth in a comfortable little nook of the coffee shop. They served it in these huge mugs that she was both gushing over and bashing ("This is the most hipster shit I've seen in my life, but s'got such a cute little bunny on the side, I'm in love.), she slid him his sticky notes and he slid her the pen. After a suitable amount of chatter, like how their summer's have been going, and Y/N telling him a very intense story of how she had to help her friend escape from a club so her boyfriend didn't see her (they hiked her up through a bathroom window), Harry tried to bring it up cautiously and carefully. Explaining his dilemma the best he could, from the wanting some personal time to himself to cool down and relax, to the counterfeited girlfriend he'd conjured up, and ending with the fact that now he's expected to go to a cabin with said "girlfriend" to meet his buddies.

So he asked her, trying to keep himself from cringing at his own proposition.

"Would you pretend to be my girlfriend so I don't make a fool out of myself?"

And, well, she just said okay without a second thought at all.

"I said okay," her brows a furrow and a smile tugs at her mouth, "You aren't asking for a kidney, and the amenities include Wi-Fi, running water, and actual bedding as you informed me. Doesn't sound like too bad of a time either."

This went a lot smoother than Harry thought, and he's still blinking at her, wide eyed but  a grin is broadening across his cheeks, "So you'll do it? Really?" Y/N nods, and Harry just about jumps from his seat, stretching across the table to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug, "God you're a life saver! Thought you would tell me to fuck off or something." She returns the hug easily, which is good he thinks -- he hopes this means Y/N's good with being touchy feely, the way she squeezes him to her.

"S'no problem, really, what was I going to do this week anyways? All my friends took a trip to Australia and I refused because of the creatures they have living down there, so I just have loads of TV dramas queued up and candy I shouldn't be eating." She releases him as he settles back down into his seat, "So what kind of girl did you tell them I was -- like how should I act? M'I shy or outgoing, soft and sweet, or loud and brash, please don't tell me you gave them an eye color because I'm shit with contacts."

Harry is just positively giddy, wiggling in his seat as he takes a sip from his latte and tries to recall the nitty gritty details he's told them about her, "You're soft, cute, smart and really funny, so you don't need to work on anything there," he says cheekily and she rolls her eyes, tossing a crumbled up napkin at him, "We eat a lot together and ya give great back massages."

"I eat a lot on my own anyways so this is good." She chimes in and Harry makes a fist in triumph, "I dunno about the back massages, but I can work on my skills, surely. Anything else?"

"This ones the most important," he says, leaning in close, lowering his voice and she leans in as well in response to it, "We are very, very, very in love. We gotta sell this, do you think you can?"

Y/N waves at the air like she's brushing it off.

"Easy as pie."

                                                                          .                    .                     .

Harry is a jittery nervous and excited that he can't really explain. It's like -- he's pumped to see his friends again, he realizes he's missed the dolts after being a shut in for the few weeks he's had been. He's excited for them to meet Y/N, who isn't his real girlfriend but it's nice to finally have her to prove to them he's not lying (well, sort of), because this was sure to quash any doubts. Plus spending time with Y/N outside of Bio wasn't so bad either -- she's proven to be just as much of a good time as she was in there, in the outside world, so he worries none about the two hour trip driving down there nor pretending to be in love.

He's attempting to tidy his house some -- she's coming over tonight with her bags and everything packed so they can leave early-ish in the morning, and they need to go over a few more details before he forgets. They also have to practice being a couple. . .doing coupe-ly things, like cuddles, and hugs, and they can't make it look like it's been the first time they're touching each other or his friends would see through them right away. By tidying though, he's really just shoving things where they fit, stacking papers and cramming them into a book before slipping it beneath his chair, fluffing out his throw blanket and actually lying it on the back of the couch.  

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